


Eitha Breoal

by Lillianwillsurvive



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Abuse, Adventure, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Long Shot, Novel, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillianwillsurvive/pseuds/Lillianwillsurvive
Summary: As the tensions are rising between the Empir and Varden, the country grows restless, still, nestled against the monstrous mountains of the Spine, two friends make a startling discovery that will change their fates and that of Alagaesia itself forever. Can they keep each other safe from the dangers they'll face at every turn, or will they crumble under the weight of the world?
Relationships: Eragon Shadeslayer/Original Character
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

Eleven Years Ago  
“Little ones, there are many stories I wish to tell you of a lifetime far before the one you live,” Mommy said, holding me close to her on the floor by the fire. Eragon, Roran, and I were all huddled in front of the fire as the men were out birthing a new foal. “A time where dragons, elves, and dwarves still roamed the lands. I know I could never do it justice as Brom could, but this is the tale of the dragon riders of old.” We all giggled and glanced amongst each other at the mysterious tale. The blanket fell off my shoulders and my mother pulled it back up before leaning back to continue her story.  
“Once, long before the reign of King Galbatorix, before many of our families even came to exist in this land, there was a great war between the elves and the dragons. Many lost their lives over the years that the war dragged on before eventually, one elvish man stepped forward to end the war.” She looked over us, a small smile lighting her face.  
“Do any of you know what his name was?” We all remained silent, not quite recalling this part of the tale. The fire crackled in the fireplace and cast an eerie glow over the small, bony figure huddled in the door frame to our room.  
“Eragon,” my sister whispered as she walked into the room quietly, a bruise marring her cheekbone. We all looked at her and all smiled, though mine was a little bit sad because I knew what had caused the bruise. She came further into the room and my mother’s smile dampened as her eyes fell on it as well but brushed it off when Sara climbed right up into her lap, huddled close.  
“That’s right Sara,” she spoke softly brushing the dark hair from her face and continued her story. “He was the first rider. He came across an egg and stole it away to raise it and eventually united their people and formed the Riders, changing the fates of both races forever. Eventually, humans were also made into riders, and the golden age began. The riders flew all over Alagaesia, helping those in need and protecting the weak. In times of trouble and turmoil, they were there to help rebuild what was lost.” Her eyes flitted to mine and the side of her mouth quirked up more.   
“Now, even though the dragons are gone, and the world is in upheaval once more, there is still hope, for within the dark walls of Uru’baen, lie the king’s dragon eggs. Rumor has it he has been hiding them for centuries, waiting for the right time to bring them back to the world. Yet, just like there are rumors of the eggs existing, there are also rumors of plots to steal them and restore the riders of old.”  
Suddenly Roran stood up and shouted, “I will be a rider one day!” Havoc broke loose as us three younger children broke out into a quarrel pretending to be knights and riders. Between bouts of wrestling though, I could see mama and Sara talking about something that looked secretive.   
Nine Years Ago  
“Watch out Roran!” I yelled as Ery swept up behind him with a branch, pretending it was a sword. Roran didn’t move fast enough and the branch caught him in his side. He fell over in pain and I raced over to tackle Eragon to the ground. Then after subduing Ery I walked to Roran who had the air knocked out of him on the ground and checked his side.   
There is a bruise forming, and a cut in the middle from where a sharp edge of the stick had deeply scraped at the skin. I quickly stopped the bleeding like Sara taught me and put pressure on the wound.   
“Ery, get Uncle, quick!” He nods with wide eyes and races off to the farm.   
“Well, this is a fun way to end a day, huh, Nina?” Roran chuckles, then gasps in pain and I can’t help but laugh at his lame attempts at humor. He knows his jokes are awful, but in a charming, dorky way.   
Eventually, Garrow takes Roran back to the house and patches him up, after thanking me and telling Ery to walk me home. It is well into the evening and as we approach my house I can hear dad and mom’s shouts in the distance. I smile at Eragon and he smiles back.  
“I can walk home from here. See you tomorrow, Ery,” I say before giving him a quick hug. When I walk into the house my mother is standing in front of the door, her thin frame doing a poor job blocking me from dad.   
“There you are, you brat! Where have you been?” He asks, marching towards me and mom. She steps forward and tries to calm him, but he slaps her with enough force to knock her over. She tries to get up, but he has already grabbed me by the shoulders. “I think it's time you learned proper respect for your father!”  
A sharp pain blooms across my right cheek and I stare up at him in confusion to seem his hand still raised from the blow he delivered. It’s a blur as my mom tackles him to the ground.   
The next few days are spent tending to the wounds he dealt her as punishment for defending me. I kept apologizing to her but she said it was okay, and that she would do it again if she had to.   
Later that year  
We stood together in the rain outside my house as Horst and Gertrude said prayers over the simple gravestone. My father had run into town with some sad sob story over how mama had fallen into the river and not gotten back out. How he had tried to save her but it was no use. I knew Daddy was a liar though.   
Mommy hadn’t fallen in, he had pushed her. He had been mad at me and she had gotten in the way. It was my fault, all my fault.   
Eragon took my hand beside me as the tears on my face mixed with the rain and he hugged me close. I could see the indifference in my father’s eye over his shoulder, despite the fake sadness thrown over his face in a measly attempt to cover his lack of care.  
8 years ago  
It’s no longer uncommon for me to have bruises on my body from the things my father deemed as unacceptable behaviors. Sara joked that it was just an excuse for him to have another punching bag around.  
She wasn’t allowed to leave the house much. Sometimes, I saw the boy from town, Terry, sneak out to see her. They would meet behind the house for an hour or two before he would run back to the village. He always brought us little treats his mother made. His family ran the local tavern that my father often frequented so he always knew when it was alright to visit. Sara was always worse for wear than I, but she always tried to be nice to me.   
Roran and Eragon are already out in the fields when I make it out there, trying to hide the limp from a hard knock to my knee last night. They smile and Eragon moves to bump me over, but the nine-year-old Roran seems to notice the pain on my face and holds him back.   
“Let’s just get started on the field alright guys? I want to go into town later,” he states, causing Eragon and me to give each other side glances.   
“You mean to visit your girlfriend?” I mock.  
“She is not my girlfriend!” he shouts in exasperation, despite the faint blush tinting his cheeks. I mentally sigh, knowing he will forget about my leg for now. I slowly start training myself to hide my pain throughout the day, even when I tweak it by moving the wrong way.  
The town we lived in was small, pushed up against the side of a streak of mountains, the monstrous dark peaks tearing into the clouds, but protecting us from the cold northern winds that blow from beyond them. At the northern edge of the valley, when you were high enough into the Spine, you could see the great expanse of the Palancar Valley below you, and further to the west was the North Sea. Short, stout trees littered the valley, as the strong winds kept most things from growing too tall away from the base of the mountains where the little farms dotted the landscape. The Anora river wound her way along the mountains as well, connecting to little streams of mountain snow melted off the tall peaks and trees only to join back up with the north sea to bring fresh water to the salted body of water. It was a modest home, and we lived our whole lives here but we had never known more.


	2. Reprieve

I sometimes wonder how flying creatures lift themselves into the air. I also wonder why the world is a cruel place, and wish I could fly. To escape far from the horrors that plagued this life.  
The flock of sparrows I had been observing had just lifted from the branch in the distance, likely to begin their long migration south for the winter. Trusting their own limbs to fling themselves off the ground and into the sky, knowing that somehow their own strength would keep them from plummeting back to the cold, unforgiving earth. I wish I had that much faith in myself.  
Standing from my crouched position, and taking aim with my bow, I fire into the air, trying to hit one for supper when I am startled from my hunt. My sister Sarah is leaning out the front door of our house hollering with an odd tone in her voice.  
"Elaina! Father is looking for you!" I rush into the house, closing the solid door behind me, then hear the crash of a bottle on the wood floor. The harsh thunk and glass shattering reverberates in my ears, even from the other room, making me wince with the all too familiar noise. The dent left by the bottle joined countless others that were slightly buffed from boots wearing on them over time. I begin to tremble in fear of the memories, and what I am sure will come if I haven't made enough money to please him today.

8 years ago  
“This is what you get, you rotten bitch! Making such messes in my home,” he yelled, despite his rotten breath being palpable from his mouth next to my ear. “ Clean it before you get more lashings than I already have planned!” My father yells angrily at me as I continue gagging, dry heaving, having already lost all of the food and bile in my body to the cold ground. It felt so good pressed to my forehead as I tried to stabilize the world that appeared to be spinning on an angle. My ears rang a little and spittle flew my mouth as he kicked me over in anger at my lack of response. I gasped, the cool air filling my lungs as I clutched my stomach, both heaving and tense.  
Sarah walks into the room we share cautiously, after hearing our argument. Her fourteen year old body is small and gaunt, but her height dwarfs my eight year old form in comparison, especially crumpled on the ground as I was.  
“Daddy, she can’t help being sick. Please, let me-” her pleading is cut off by father grabbing her throat and slamming her into the wall. I yelp at the loud thud, but silence myself when he drops her and stalks towards me. She tries to get up to place herself in front of me, but is still struggling to regain her breath through her crushed windpipe. It had only been a few months since the loss of our mother and already his cruelty had reached new heights. Sara did her best to curb his rage but rarely could stop his brute force.  
He pulls his foot back to deliver a harsh kick, right to my face when-

That same yelling voice breaks me out of my thoughts.  
"Elaina Marie Isealsdaughter, get in here now! I need to be in town soon so hurry up!" I rush into the room and kneel after handing him the bag filled with ten gold crowns.  
"Good. I expect more from you though, you dirty shit. No whips today, but I swear more tomorrow child or you shall be punished."  
I sigh as soon as he stalks out the door, the putrid smell of whatever he had thrown up onto himself in a drunken stupor wafting into my nose as he passes,stumbling and already piss drunk. I look up to see a familiar face in the distance in the woods behind our home. A smile tears across my face as my friend waves at me, returning the look. I run out after father and watch as he and Nelson, his grey horse disappear. I walk to the stalls and tack up my black and white stallion Tarpin.  
"Nina, why were you in such a hurry to go?" I jump and yelp lightly but sigh and catch my breath realizing it was just the familiar blonde I saw from the window jogging towards me.  
"Hey, you okay? You seem anxious." Eragon takes a step towards me and tries to see past my knee-length curtain of thick brown hair. One of his hands brushes it behind my shoulder, then comes to rest atop it, thumb grazing my protruding collar bone.  
"I'm fine," I whisper then get on my horse and take off. I don't look back to watch him collect his horse from the post outside. Shaking the feeling of apprehension, I settle another smile on my face and ward off my daily worries. Our horses breathing and the rustle of the leaves in the autumn wind is the loudest of sounds as we guide our steeds up the rocky ground, incline growing steeper and the forest denser. We make it up to our usual hunting spot up the mountain in the Spine before he hands me a spare bow of his.  
"Tell your uncle I said thanks for the extra cash today it really helped." He nods as he points out a fresh set of deer tracks to me. We make eye contact and I leave Tarpin tied to the branch of a tree. I see the little x's we put in the trees to find our way back on previous trips. We make it to a clearing and split up to flank the herd of twelve or so deer. The herd as a whole seems a little spooked, and I notice the sounds of the forest have come to an almost complete halt. The hairs on the back of my neck raise as an eerie feeling settles over me and I glance around the clearing for the source.  
Ignoring it, I nod across the clearing, pull my string back and aim while Eragon does the same. We release right as a resounding boom fills the clearing. My mind is dazed when I am blown back a bit and my shoulder smacks roughly into a low hanging branch. I get up, looking for Eragon in the haze, jumping when I see him kneeling in the middle. My eyes widen as I see, upon my approach, that a large blue stone is sitting in the center of a patch of burned grass. The deer forgotten, we look at each other in shock.  
"What is it?" I ask cautiously, nudging it with the toe of my boot. Eragon scowls slightly and runs a finger along the white spidery veins in the smooth surface.  
"More importantly, how did it get here? It just... appeared," Eragon says, pointing out the obvious. I sit back on my heels and think for a few minutes, and realize what might have happened. My heart pounds a little harder at the thought, and I open my mouth to speak in a hushed tone.  
"Do you remember the stories you told me when we were children about magicians?" He nods. "What if it was teleported here to us? It has to have come from somewhere," I say, eyeing his face closely for a reaction. His eyebrows raise a bit and he picks the object up off the ground.  
"Well, I'm not going to just leave it here. It has to be here for a reason. Do you want to take it home?" he asks, fixing the stone into the pack he was carrying on his back.  
"No, take it for all the extra pay your uncle has given me over the years." He remains persistent, trying to convince me to take it home, but I stand firm in my answer.  
We move back through the trees, our hunt unsuccessful. We chat along the way, feet nimble from years of practice roaming these same paths. At some point conversation stops and my back aches from the whipping I received yesterday.  
Suddenly, I trip, foot caught under a root and fall forward, my forehead connecting with a sharp rock on the ground. I struggle to lift my head again, twisting but I can feel warm blood oozing not only from my head wound but from the stripes of welts on my back that had smarted when I twisted, trying to catch myself. Red floods my left eye and I can hear Eragon's concerned voice, but it sounds far away and fading as my world disappears into the blackness.


	3. Marks

Eragon's POV

"Elaina!"  
My heart is in my throat as I watch her haphazardly slump to the ground, blood oozing from her head wound. I drop my bags on the ground including the bag with the stone. I lift her head and check her pulse. It is steady and strong but I decide to play it safe and keep her here for now. The dark liquid is draining down her face and onto her plain brown shirt, some leaking down onto mine as well. I tear a strip of it from the hem, letting her body lean against my own as I wrap her head wound.  
The warmth of her body is seeping into mine, or so I thought it was until I can feel a slickness against the top of my legs and stomach. I look down in horror to see more of the red lifeblood seeping through the back of her shirt. My heart pounds when I realize the blood was coming from her back, which hadn't been harmed in her fall. I gingerly roll her over and peel back the now soaked shirt to reveal her back. The sight that graces my eyes freezes my gut and makes my chest burn.  
Along her back are major gashes, and the skin that isn't torn is scarred with marks just like them. The cuts, both old and new were rugged and discolored, bruising marking what skin had not been sliced open or scarred. My mind is blank as I stare down at her small, wilted form, limp in my grasp. Her breathing is ragged and I slowly lift her shirt to just below her breasts and let myself gaze upon her stomach. A bruise is stretched across the left side of her ribcage, like a morbid flower blossoming on the tan skin of my best friend. More and more little scars stand out and as she shifts a little in discomfort her trousers slip a little lower on her right hip, revealing a large, puckered scar.  
My mind starts moving again, suddenly flipping through the little snippets she had given me of her personal life. I realized how little I really knew of this girl who was supposed to be my best friend. I knew her father to be a strict stern man, but also a drunk. I was never allowed to spend time at her house because of her father’s distaste for me, at least that was after her mother had passed. It also occurred to me how rarely her sister was seen in town or really anywhere other than their family's modest hovel. I thought about all the times Sarah had informed me that her sister would not be coming to work that day for one reason or another and refused my visits saying it was contagious, or she was resting. I thought even further back to the mysterious death of her mother, Lavinia Iseal, her dead body found a week or so after her disappearance, gashes and bruises littering her bloated form washed up on the stony shore of a nearby creek.  
They didn't look much like any animal claws I had known but did match the ones now littering her daughter’s back. My mind is slowly pulling together a gruesome picture, dropping each small detail in like the parts of the puzzles we used to play with as children. She hardly mentions her father other than the fact that they don't get along well. I haven't talked to him much, but I have seen him quite often at Morn’s tavern in town drinking and being generally a boisterous man. In the years that I have known them, I never really knew anything about her home life in terms of specific details.  
She has a sister, but I have only seen her on rare occasions, and even rarer out of arm's reach of their father.  
It begins to come together for me.  
Why she is shy of my hugs and rough-housing, or at least has been of late. Her father always seemed cruel but I never would have guessed... I shake my head to dispel the dark thoughts, though the heavy knot in my gut is harder still to loosen.  
I gather firewood and build a fire and cook meat from a rabbit I had in my pack that we caught a few days ago. Her form is lying prone by the fire, tucked into her sleeping bag. I let a breath out my nose as I sit down next to her feet and stare into the fire.  
Elaina suddenly jumps, her long brown hair flailing around her, having fallen in chunks from the braid she kept it in to lay in curtains over her shoulder as she jolts awake. "Where are we?" she asks. Her eyes darted around the area where I had elected to set up camp. I glanced over her face, unable to meet her eyes, instead letting mine trace over the curves of her high cheekbones to her small nose. Such innocent looking features, I wonder how many times they had been battered and bruised by her own father’s hands.  
Finally, unable to stand her stare of confusion anymore I lock eyes with her stare deep into her warm brown ones.  
“Elaina,” I begin softly, caution in my tone as I turn my body fully to face her. “Why did you never tell me...” I trailed off, still unsure how to phrase the question I dreaded to ask. I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it only made the choking feeling worse.  
"What do you mean?" She tilts her head and winces. A hand flies up and gently brushes the bandages I had wrapped her head in and she realizes it is material from her shirt. Glancing down and seeing her midriff is exposed, she hikes the sleeping bag up a little higher, trying to cover her scarred stomach, trying to hide still. We both knew what those scars meant though.  
"The cuts on your back. Where did they come from? And the scars? Who...What...?" I am completely baffled by the friend I have known forever, and the secret I had never fathomed the possibility of. I can see her resolve break piece by piece as she and I stare into each other’s eye once more.  
"My father and I don't get along okay? He doesn't work so I have to. If I don't bring enough money for his mead, I get whipped, burned and slashed. My mother didn't drown. She was murdered. By my father." Her soft face is contorted in pain, and I shift closer to her and allow her to lean on me as she sobs. Each painstaking breath she takes breaks my heart and I don't stop her when she gets up and walks away.  
I try to clear my mind and get some sleep, however after just a few short moments I hear a keening wail and race after her, only to find her attacking a tree, crying and wailing.  
I gently pull her away, then more forcefully when she refuses. I have to wrap my arms around her and sit down with her in my lap as she cries, slowly putting herself to sleep.  
I carry her back to camp and set her down as I take the rabbit off the spit. I turn to find her sad brown eyes staring up at me.  
"I am so sorry." I hand her some rabbit.  
"I'm fine Eragon, I don’t want your pity" her tone is weak.  
"I refuse to let you go back there Elaina. Why don't you come stay with me or Gertrude? I'm sure she could fix you up." Her expression is unreadable before she nods her head, small form quivering like the autumn leaves around us. I pull out our bedrolls again seeing how late it is and help her back into hers.  
"Thank you Eragon."  
"Goodnight Nina." She drifts to sleep quickly but my mind lingers for much longer just wondering how any of this could have gone so long without a single person noticing.

We walk back, well, I force her to ride on my back, to the horses. It is a long trek to town and in the morning light I can see how pale she has become from blood loss, and that she has bled through her head wrappings and shirt in the night, wounds still weeping. She rides on my horse upon my insistence, knowing she was too weak to be trusted with her own reins. Tarpin follows obediently behind us as we move as quickly as is safe down the mountain.  
We arrived in town before the sun was at the top of its arc and I brought her to Gertrude's. She sits in the living room, tears streaming silently down her face, mixing with the blood, while I explain everything to Gertrude in the kitchen.  
"My goodness, and you just now learned of this Eragon?" her old wrinkled face is etched with surprise, as she casts furtive glances toward the young girl.  
"You know I would have stopped it sooner if I had known." She sighs as she looks at my pleading eyes and I hope she knows how to help the situation.  
"Elaina, dear, come here," Gertrude calls. "Let's go get you a room to stay in. I have some clothes from my daughter you can wear.” I watch her thin frame move down the hallway with Gertrude unsure if I should follow.  
"Eragon, I'm going to examine her so you can go into town for a while."  
"Thank you. Take care of her okay?" I wait until hearing a hum of consent, then walk outside and to Horst's. Albriech and Baldor seem to have just gotten off to work so I go in to talk to them. "Eragon how are you?" Albriech asks after we exchange greetings. His tone is more serious than usual, having picked up on the darkness in my mood.  
"Not so well. Nina is with Gertrude."  
"What?"  
"Why?"  
The boys always asked questions when I least wanted them to.  
"I think you can ask her. I don't want to talk about it, and I'm not quite sure she would want everyone to know."  
"Is it because of you?" Baldor asks.  
"No! If it weren't for me, she never would have gotten medical attention." They ponder this. They don't seem to understand my more than slightly cryptic remark. Just then, Horst and Elain walk in hand in hand.  
"Eragon, do you know what Gertrude is doing at her house? Someone over there sounds to be in real pain," Elain asks. I know I can't lie to them, not now. The boys look at me, but I ignore them and nod at the adults. It would be disrespectful not to answer them.  
"Elaina is in there."  
"Why, what happened?"  
It all crashes down on me. She could have died if I hadn't noticed. Her dad could have beaten her to death, or drowned her, or raped her... A tear escapes my eye at that thought because he very well could have already done that.  
I shake my head and, not trusting my voice, stay silent.  
"Eragon what happened?" Horst asks in a somewhat harsh tone, apparently seeing the conflict and pain in my eyes.  
"Her father, he... Her mom didn't drown, she was killed." They gasp as they piece it together and Elain cries. She comes over and hugs me, her stomach heavy with child making it hard to reach me. I know she understands what Elaina has been through more than anyone. Elaina was named after Elain for a reason, more than the similarities in their personalities as I now knew.  
The boys sit in shock. Then Albriech shakes his head in shock.  
"She was always so happy. I can't believe it."  
"I swear that man should be hanged for his crimes," Horst speaks, more harsh and angry than I've ever heard him before. I have never agreed with someone more than I did at this moment, despite the gruesome words.  
"I'm going back over there," I say, getting up to leave. "You can stay with us tonight Eragon," Elain said softly, knowing how stressed I was and how Elaina would need someone to be there for her.  
"Thank you so much, Elain." I leave the house, and run quickly back to Gertrude's and find the house quiet. Gertrude stirs something over a fire while Nina rests on her stomach on the couch.  
"She has been through so much Eragon. You must keep an eye on her when she is okay to leave." I nod silently and sit on the floor on the couch.  
"She said you’re the first person to know outside of her family. She really cares about you. I don't think even she knows how much just yet. You can't leave her."  
"I won't."  
"No, you can’t.” The finality in her voice makes me wonder at the second meaning behind her words.  
“Her father was really thorough in his beatings. She probably won't be able to leave for days. It is a wonder she was walking and riding with ease as you claim. I stitched up most of her wounds but the others are still pretty deep and will take time to heal. Have you thought of what you'll tell her father?"  
I haven't. What right had the disgusting old man to even say her name, let alone try to drag her back to his self-made hell?  
"What should I say to a man who has beat his children and killed his wife?" She just stares back at me sadly, no answer in her old, wise eyes.


	4. Injuries and Injustice

Chapter 3  
Eragon’s POV

The first day passed slowly, and the news really sank in. The news had spread like wildfire as people wondered at who could be at Gertrude's, and why. The stares followed me through town as I walk past the scattered, decrepit houses I can see the eyes following me through dusty windows. I spent the morning at Horst and Elain’s, eating a small breakfast and speaking softly of Gertrude’s assessment of Nina’s wounds. Horst mentioned in disgust that Elaina’s father had been seen in town. I knew I would need to see if the stone we had gone through all the trouble for was worth anything, now more than ever as I knew Elaina wouldn’t be going to her home again and would need somewhere to live. What better place than with me?  
I marched through town to Sloan’s butcher shop and square by shoulders before entering. Sloan had never like me for whatever reason, and after losing his wife to the Spine’s treacherous Igualda Falls, his disdain for me grew every time I returned unscathed. When I entered the shop, he was wiping down the counter of blood from his latest piece of work. His beady eyes stared at me from his sallow face, and the clothes on his frame hung loose from the skin and bone form.  
“What do you want boy? Shouldn’t you be taking care of that girl?” His voice held disdain and I tried to keep my face from showing my unhappiness at it.  
“I wish to barter for some meat. I have this stone,” I say, showing the blue stone off, his eyes tracing over it’s smooth surface carefully. “What say you?”  
“How much is it worth?” His tone held much skepticism as I set the stone on his counter, and he traced a figure over its surface.  
“I am not sure, but I would imagine with as flawless as it is, it must have been crafted for some purpose and be of some value.” His eyes narrowed and looked back up at me.  
“You don’t even know its worth and you expect me to take itin the hopes I can make some profit off of it? No. Where did you even get the thing?” He spat the question at me, as if accusing me of something.  
“It appeared in the Spine whi-”  
“Get out!” He shouted, spittle flying from his lips. “I will not have anything from those bloody mountains in my shop!” His voice was vehement and he brandished a knife from the counter at me threateningly. Just as he stepped forward again the door opened and Horst walked in.  
“I hear the commotion from outside, what's all this about?” Horst said his arms crossed and staring down at us with a harsh look. “Our little town has enough drama already this week without you two causing problems.”  
“I was trying to gather provisions for when Elaina is able to come home with me. We will need them to make it through the winter and I figured this stone must be worth something,” I say gesturing at the object. Horst nods and goes to speak whensloan bursts out.  
“It's from the Spine! Besides, it is my store and I have the right to declineservie to anyone I see fit,” Sloan said, sounding more and more like a petulant child. Horst rolled his eyes then spoke again, turning to me.  
“What were you looking to get?”  
“As much as I coul, sir. With four mouths to feed we will need more than ever.” Horst closes his eyes then nods to himself.  
“Sloan, grab the boy your finest meat, enough to fill his and Elaina’s packs.” When Sloan looked that he would protest, Horst eyed him harshly and uttered, “it’d be a big mistake to ignore my request.”  
Sloan muttered angrily to himself as he got to it, then dumped the pile of meat onto the table in front of me before leaving into the back room not to be seen again. Horst left back to his home after I promised to repay him with work next year when planting season was over.  
I spent the remainder of my day in a chair at Elaina’s bedside holding her hand.  
I wake early the next day and ride out to the farm to explain what has happened to Garrow and Roran. My uncle’s face contorts in anger, an emotion rarely seen on his soft old face. Roran doesn’t look much better, fists clenching and a glint fury in his eyes, but also guilt at having never known. Never protecting our childhood friends. After telling them all that I knew, they were outraged, even more so than Horst, seeing so much of his sister in the young girl. Horst was a very stern man, but he also knew how to have fun when the time called for it. I am brought back to the present when Garrow releases a long sigh.  
"I will clean out your room for her to stay in Eragon. Roran, you go to town with him and find some extra food. We will be needing it to make it through the winter. Eragon, you may need to make a few more hunting trips into the Spine to stock up our meat stores." Roran and I nod at the orders, getting up to prepare for the day. Leaving an hour after eating, we arrive back in town just before noon and get to work at the market. We wander around, splurging a little more than we probably should have on the few things we knew Nina favored. We rounded a corner back onto the main road and I saw something suspicious in the corner of my eye.  
I see two suspicious black-cloaked figures roaming around, backs hunched.  
"Roran do you know who they are?" I ask, trying to discern the faces of the odd figures from their black cloaks. One of them turns and from beneath the cloak’s hood, a beaked silhouette sticks out. I am taken aback by the strange thing and quickly turn back to Roran to see if he had seen what I had.  
"Probably henchmen of the king, here to wreak havoc on the town," he spits at the thought, remembering all the good our king Galbatorix had done for us. I am suddenly reminded of the stone back at the house now in Roran's room. My arm is grabbed by something suddenly, yanking me around to face them.  
"I know you know where my daughter is, boy." The words slurred from the drunk man's mouth. I stand in astonishment then growl back. I retch my arm free to escape the vile man’s stench but his grip only tightens.  
"Even if I did I wouldn't tell you where she is, pig." I spit at his shoes. Roran shakes his head in the background trying to tell me not to pick a fight with a man who is taller and stronger than me. I don't listen though. He growls at me then grabs my collar.  
"You'd better-" He is cut off by the butt of a stick being set on his shoulder by an old man behind him. "He'd better what? From what I've heard the only one who needs to do anything is you. I suggest you put him down before I make you." Nina's father laughs. His yellowing teeth showing from behind curled lips.  
"You, make me? Please. Go back to your books old man." Brom whacks him over the head hard enough to make him drop me. Roran steadies me as I watch them both take a fighting stance. I can almost see the wobble in Cyran’s drunk stance, but Brom is crouched low and steady, appearing comfortable almost like he hadn’t gone a day in his life without fighting. I watch him curiously as he holds his cane as a sword.  
The old man strikes first, knocking his opponent's legs from under him. For a drunk, Nina's dad moves pretty fast. He rolled up into a fighting position again, this one far more stable and threatening, as though he was taking this more seriously now.His eyes narrowed dangerously, and it seemed some sick recognition flashed his eyes at the old man’s fighting stance. He struck out at Brom with a fist. Brom grabbed it, twisted it and shoved it back at him.  
By now a crowd had gathered and people watched as both men recovered for another round.  
Just as they moved toward each other the crowd parted and allowed a young woman into the ring. She stepped between the men as the crowd stared in astonishment. As Cyran’s eyes catch sight of her I can see him begin fuming, and I take a step forward but Roran catches my arm, nodding his head at Brom. The old man had angled himself in front of her slightly, still in a ready stance.  
"Where have you been, girl? You did not return home yesterday," he reached toward her as if he were going to slap her, but I interceded.  
"She is none of your concern now, criminal." Nina's eyes widened at how strong my voice was with my aggressive choice of words.  
"What do you mean Eragon?" Brom asked, stepping forward slightly.  
"I'll explain." Nina and Brom went off a little ways to discuss, while I continued to stare the old man down. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Brom bring Elaina into a gentle hug, careful of her back.  
"Eragon, Roran, take her back to Gertrude's and stay there. This girl needs to be resting." He raises his voice for all to hear. It is gruff and commanding, worn from a mysterious past the village had no recollection of. The people of Carvahall had been wary of him at first but I knew he meant no harm when he had arrived almost ten years ago, sharing stories of better times.  
"Go home now, all of you, this man is not for you to judge. Leave him to his mead and sorrow." We all walked away and I saw Brom disappear into his shack of a home in the corner of my eye.  
"Thank you," Nina whispered to me as we walked back. I take her soft hand in mine and squeeze it gently, causing a soft blush to cross her cheeks.  
"No problem. I would do anything to keep that thing away from you. No one deserves to be treated like that." She looks down at her feet and nods, her lips a tight line. My eyes trace her form, taking note of the new clothes she wears. It is one of Elaine's loose dresses, probably from her pregnancies, so that her back isn't being touched. Her leather boots barely peek out from under the hem looking completely different from the dark blue of the fabric. It still astonishes me the beauty she carries, even through all the times of hardship, and I am so grateful she is still here with me.

It was sunset when we got to Gertrude's, the sun had just dropped behind the peaks of the Spine. The old woman greets us from the porch, and she takes Nina in and tells me to wait outside. A few minutes later, Nina comes back. She holds a bag of something in her left hand. I cock my head, silently asking what was in the little pouch.  
"Poppy seeds to help the pain. She said to go see Horst. They invited us over to a nice dinner. That's why I'm wearing this," She gestures downwards toward her outfit, The same blue dress earlier, pinned up to look ruffled. She also has a woven leather belt around her waist.  
We walk in silence to Horst's, for we know all questions will be answered at dinner.  
I can't help but see the beauty in the scars marking her neck and shoulders, showing the feats she has been through to stand before me today. Her light golden-brown eyes shimmer in the setting sun, complimenting the tan skin and dark brown hair. It is twisted into a braid, something I only know because she taught me as a child, that reaches below her waist. Her short bangs are swept just along the line of her thin, but dark, thick brows framing her almond-shaped eyes.  
I wish I understood how to protect her, and to explain how I feel for her. It's just every time I try to say something, I stumble and choke. I guess it will come in time, being able to say, and explain coherently, something like that.  
We finally make it to their house and we take the step two steps two at time. I hold the door open for her, and she says a quiet ‘thank you.’  
"Good evening!" Elaine calls from inside, standing next to the fire tending the cooking food. I walk to the dining table and notice the boys setting the table. I pull out a chair for Nina as Horst walks in from another room.  
I could see the look of sorrow in his eyes as he looked upon the strong but small girl before us. He moves forward and lays a hand on her shoulder, looking her sadly in the eyes with an apology.  
"I'm sorry."  
Her cheeks raise, complementing her angled features in a beautiful, white smile.  
"I'm alright sir. I have dealt with worse pains than this." I wince at this statement. She seems to notice the phrasing and sighs.  
Despite the dark conversation I had been dreading, dinner consisted of mostly silence, albeit a comfortable one, and they offered her a room to stay in next to mine. She agreed and I helped her gently up the stairs. Elaine had already put some clothes in the room for her. We walk into Elaina’s room, and she climbs into the bed. I stop at the door as I am leaving as she whispers to me.  
"Goodnight Eragon."  
"Goodnight Elaina." And with that, I slipped next door to bed, and quickly found myself dreaming.


	5. Battle and Songs

"Monster! I didn't steal it. I swear!" I scream in pure terror as he steps closer, the whiskey on his breath all too familiar. I look to my sister for help but she cowers in the corner and gives me a sad look. My stomach drops as I know there is no one here to protect me from his wrath. A sob escapes my lips before I have the chance to hold it back. He doesn’t like it when I cry.  
"Then how will you explain the fact that it was hidden in the tool shed. You are the only one who works in the fields. Wretched bitch, why can't you just keep your grubby hands on your own property? I thought I had taught you well enough. Guess the lesson must be reinstilled."  
I realized he meant the chocolate I had bought and stored for Ery's birthday. I had hidden the wrapped bundle behind a stack of hay in my horse’s stall, thinking father would never go in there. The boy was turning fifteen and I thought that was a big deal. I had the sinking feeling something would prevent me from being there for the next one.  
He slowly placed an iron rod in the fire to heat it and slowly removed his belt from the loops.  
I am screaming again and he makes his way over and throws me, the pain is excruciating as he grabs me again-

I am jerked from my frightening dreams, screaming and fighting against the arms that hold me. He’s going to kill me, I have to-  
"Nina, hey you're safe." I can feel someone else's tears mixing with the ones that fell from my own eyes. The pain from the dream is fleeting, but the memories remain so I stay settled and continue to cry. I look up into a set of dark brown eyes,   
I realize it is Eragon's cousin, who is leaving for Therinsford soon, holding me like the good big brother I saw him as. His soft brown hair is bristling against my face, tickling my sharp cheekbones. I can tell through the way he breathes, through the hushes he whispers to me in his calm voice, that he has done this for Eragon as a child. I wonder what dreams Eragon fought off. Spiders? A bear? The parents he had never known?   
Eragon mosied into the room, cautiously peeking down at us, noting the tears staining my cheeks. I finally curl myself back up into my pillows with both of my friends curled up around me, a protective cocoon of love and safety. Through the window, I could see that the sun had yet to rise. It was much too early for anyone to be up because indeed there was now a soft blanket of snow outdoors, just enough to hinder people's work.  
"Would you like to speak about it, dear Elaina? You know you can trust us." Eragon shifts closer to me on my bed as I lean my head against the wall and fall from Roran's arms. I shook my head knowing my voice wouldn't stay for me to explain my real past in detail to them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  
We sit in dreary silence, all brooding over the past few days' events. Eragon was of course, with his infinite questions, the first to speak.  
"Do you think the traders are coming this year? They're awfully late."  
"I think they've probably just run into some troubles along the way. It has been a rough year..." I whisper trailing off thinking of the horrors I'd seen. My thoughts drifted to my dream and that strange feeling I had about what would happen in the future.  
"Do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you? Like something is going to happen that you can't stop, but will change you forever?" They nod. "Something's coming, I just wish I knew what," I whisper the last part, almost to myself.  
"Alright Mrs. Fortune teller. Maybe you should follow those gypsy traders when they leave. Get dressed, I'm going to cook some breakfast."  
"You cook?" He shook his head. Then he gives me a look asking for help.  
"I'll be down to cook in a minute," I chuckled.  
I pulled out one of my tunics I had here and slashed open the back with a knife. It was a simple farming tunic, so I could easily replace or repair it. For some reason though, I didn't feel the need to, like I would never need the article again after a while. I pulled it over the bandages around my back carefully.   
I finished getting dressed in trousers and leather boots, then rushed downstairs the evidence of a fire melting into my senses.  
I pull out the materials for muffins and suddenly get hit with a handful of flour. I turn to glare at my attacker, knowing it was one of the boys.  
"Now, I don't want you boys wasting any of their flour. I feel bad enough having to beg off of them for food and shelter, without you using all of their cooking supplies to amuse me."  
"I just thought you deserved some fun after all that you've been through, I'm sorry Nina..."  
"It's alright Ery, just let me finish cooking."  
"God, you guys sound like a married couple. How long have you been together?" I blushed as Eragon roughed Roran up for the snide remark. He winks at me then goes back to staring out the window. He nods his head at it when he notices something on the main road. I looked out the window and smiled seeing the bright colored caravans of the traders and gypsies.  
"Hey, you two better hurry, traders are here. I am sure you both have items to trade." I winked at Eragon, remembering the stone we had found. They ran up to Eragon's room to gather their supplies for trading. I notice then that my back has stopped aching as much as I am sweeping, bending over to pan the flour from the floor.  
A few minutes later the boys rush down the stairs as I slip the bacon from the pan and pull the cool eggs down from the window sill. The fresh bread sits on the counter from the other night when they visited Garrow.  
"You should tell your uncle the traders are here. Eat then we'll go."  
We all ate, the boys ate quite ravenously, then we saddle and tack our horses. I nuzzle Tarpin's neck while I wait for the others to finish, and then decide to bring some of my belongings because I will probably be living with them. I am sure they won't let me go home, and I am grateful.  
We ride out talking and laughing ignored by most, and soon fall into a content silence. Eragon suddenly looks quite puzzled.  
"Hey, Elaina, can I ask you something personal?" he asks slowly and full of an underlying meaning. I am suddenly cautious, but I nod anyway.  
"Did your father ever, you know..." Roran looks at me worriedly wanting, no, needing an answer to such an important question, as much as Eragon seemed to.  
"No! Of course not. He thought I was a disgusting little pig, with no future. He wouldn't want to mess with someone so worthless." I laugh at the irony of his thought pattern, He who relies on his daughters for a livelihood.   
The boys both look relieved, and we ride on now in a more uncomfortable silence then finally catch sight of the farm behind the hill and I push Tarpin into a trot. Garrow, having seen us, awaited our arrival on a chair he had set on a patch of soggy grass.  
"Hello Garrow," I say timidly knowing the boys must have told him.  
Silently he stands as I dismount and wait for a response. To my surprise, he walks over and, still silent, hugs me. He holds on and then releases me, but keeps me at arms length.  
"No man should do that to a person, especially a woman. Come inside and have a mug of tea." He leads the way inside after the boys tie the horses to the post.  
"We came to tell you the traders are here. We want to help pack the wagon," I say, jittery to see what the stone we found nearly a week ago was. Garrow swiftly shakes his head, surprising us before he spoke.  
"She is not going to help. I saw her back. It's not happening."  
I groaned in protest but knew it couldn't be helped. I sat down and watched as the guys did all the lifting I usually did. I let out a soft laugh at that thought. I had been in worse condition tending the fields before.

I come home after an especially long day in the fields. I had only earned enough to feed my family for a few days and knew what would happen as a result. I open the creaky door that my sister had yet to fix, and my father was too drunk to fix it himself. I walked into the house quietly hoping my drunk father would have been passed out.  
Of course that was not my luck.   
"Where have you been, girl? I expected you home hours ago." He snatches the pouch of money from my side. "This is all Garrow gave you? That slimy pig. You must have been so lazy and sloppy he just couldn't bring himself to tell you to go." He knocks me up against the wall and I notice something in his hand I had never been beaten with before.   
The knife he holds in his hand is jagged, used for carving wood and sawing tough meat. I watch in horror as he comes closer, and hits me in the face with a fist, which drops me to the ground. He kneels on my arms so I can't move and suddenly see the knife come towards my face. He drags it slowly across my cheek just under my eye. I force myself to remain calm, but his weight is crushing the breath from me and I gasp for air.   
He must be in a worse mood than usual.  
"You are not worth my time. Where is your sister?" I nod towards the kitchen, hating to lead him to her, but not caring at the same time, because she hates me anyway. He relieves me of his weight then as a second thought turns and plunges the short knife deep into my side with such ease, but I know he has done such a thing before. I think of my mother.  
I stay on the ground trying to sense every part of my body, pretending I am not in pain. This is how I cope. I slowly pull the knife out, trying not to cause any more damage. I then take slow, steady breaths and pressure the wound.  
I hear screams from the back of the house belonging to my sister. I hate knowing what he does to her, but am grateful it is not me. When he finally passes out, my sister comes out and sees me on the floor. She sobs and runs to the kitchen for bandages and rags, having patched me up before.  
As she cleans the wound, I fade in and out of consciousness, but cry continuously. I fade into darkness as she begins bandaging.  
The last thought I have before sleeping was that I have to go to work tomorrow, or the boys will worry, or worse come and check on me.

Of course, that didn’t happen though. The next day I had to lie to Eragon when he came to see why I wasn't there, saying a hunter from a nearby village had mistaken me for prey and shot me. He sat with me all day and was very patient and helpful. A few days later I lied and said I was better and was out working in the fields again, for our father had drunk away all of the money.  
I suddenly think of the sister I left at home. I know that now that I am gone she will be undoubtedly doing my work as well as her own. I feel a pang of doubt, knowing that was too much for her to finish in one day; and I knew the consequences for not finishing all too well. Then I remember all of the times she looked at me without emotion or pity, only anger and sadness of something I didn't recognize. Deep, unimaginable pain and fury. Then other times, her gaze was only that of pity.  
"Eragon!" I shout, a tone of worry in my voice. He jumped around and glanced over protectively.  
"Are you okay? What is it?"  
"My sister. She is still with that bastard. We have to help her." It was Garrow who answered.  
"I will go get her while the traders are setting up camp. Your father will be trying to smuggle some of their good liquor away. You three will ride off into the town and wait for us there."  
The men finished loading the cart and forced me to just wait upon the cart with the reins of the horses. I busied myself counting all of the trees that stood on the edge of the farm. I had just finished counting as they tied the last bit of cargo down.  
"Did you guys know that you have 292 full-grown trees surrounding the farm? It always looked like more than that." My voice was cunningly innocent as I looked into the boys' eyes.  
"Guys, let's get a move on. Maybe the traders will have something to cure her insanity," Roran said glancing worriedly at me.  
"There's nothing to cure, I am perfectly fine," I said seriously now. "This is just my way of coping with all the shit that has happened in the past few days." Garrow looked at me in sorrow as the boys climbed onto the wagon. He then mounted his steed.   
"I will see you kids, soon. I will get her for you," He said to me. I nod.  
We arrive in town a little after lunchtime and sit at the community bonfire waiting for Garrow. We had eaten a meager lunch of an apple and some dried corn. Though they were more haggard and weary, the gypsies were dancing and their colorful scarves and dangling outfits were marvelous. One of the gypsy children came over and grabbed me by the hand.  
"Please miss, would you like to dance?" The little boy had bright green eyes that contrasted beautifully with his tan skin that had wide and puffy little cheeks. He couldn't have been more than six or seven and was tall for his age but fairly thin. A woman a year or two older than me offered me a few scarves to wear in the dance, which jangled with small ringlets woven into the fabric. I glanced at Eragon and Roran who smiled encouragingly at me.  
After I adjusted the scarves the boy walked with me to the edge of the fire and began dancing wildly to the energetic song. The beat was strong in the tambourine, and the singer's voice was beautiful and clear as a melody of another language filled my ears.  
Soon though the song changed to one I knew, and the hand of the child was replaced and filled with a different rougher one. I opened my eyes and smiled at the sight of Eragon dressed in the same makeshift scarves I was. I laughed, then sang along with the song as we moved through an intricate dance made up on the spot.

Take off all of your skin  
And brave when you are free  
Shake off all of your sins  
And give them to me  
Close up, let me back yea  
I wanna be yours, wanna be your hero  
And my heart beats

Like the empires of the world unite  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
You're my wildfire every single night  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
And you touch me

And I'm like and I'm like and I'm like  
Wooo wooo  
And I'm like woo woo  
And I'm like woo woo  
And I'm like woo

I will follow you down wherever you go  
I, I'm, baby, I'm bound to you and do you know?  
Closer, pull me in tight  
I wanna be yours, wanna be your hero  
And my heartbeats

Like the empires of the world unite  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
You're my wildfire every single night  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
And you touch me

And I'm like and I'm like and I'm like  
Woo woo  
We are alive  
Woo woo  
And I'm like woo woo  
We are alive  
Woo

I'm just gonna raise my head  
Welcome to the final edge  
And I'm gonna fall  
I'm just gonna raise my head  
And hold you close

Like the empires of the world unite  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
You're my wildfire every single night  
We are alive  
And the stars make love to the universe  
And you touch me

And I'm like and I'm like and I'm like  
Woo woo  
And I'm like woo woo  
And I'm like woo woo  
And I'm like woo  
(Shakira - Empire Lyrics)

I smiled shyly at the end, not sure why. Everyone started clapping, and I realized the singers had stopped and were smiling at me with mischievous glints in their eyes. Everyone claps and Eragon whispers in my ear,  
"They stopped and let you sing for everyone, and you were incredible. You are incredible." I blush even redder as the clapping dies down. I notice Garrow in the crowd, smiling like a good father would at this moment. I release one of Eragon’s hands but hold the other tightly. We walk over he grasps my forearm and says:  
"I think you just showed all of those gypsies what real passion and singing is. Come on let's go start trading, Roran, and leave these lovebirds alone." I blush a deep red. I give the scarves back to the gypsies and thank them, then, walking away ask Eragon,  
"Do you have the stone?"  
"Of course! Want to go trade it?" I nod. He pulls me gently along by my hand. We reach the trader who handles precious stones and metals. He steps out of the tent as we stop, and smiles.  
"What can I do for you? Buying or selling?" The man asks, deliberately avoiding my eyes.  
"Selling," I say, noticing he was acting as if I wasn't there. He glances at me then addresses Ery.  
"I refuse to do business around a woman. Please come inside." I huff in frustration as they go into the tent. I lean on the corner of a tent on the outskirts of town next to the forest. It is so sad to see such a group of people once bright and happy, inverted and carrying weapons and burdens of such sorrow. Even the children seemed somewhat hollow.  
I was thinking of what could have happened to make them like this, when a hand covered my mouth and an arm over my chest, effectively keeping me from struggling or yelling. My attacker managed to get me into the forest before anyone could see, and walls from the past soon went up. They threw me to the ground as I began to shut down all of my senses letting the only thing I noticed be the sounds of the festival. I closed my eyes and blocked out the pain. I was kicked in the stomach a couple of times before the person took a break. I yelled then, hurting my lungs, but knowing worse pain would come if I didn't.  
"Help! Ery, Roran, someone please!" I blacked out after watching my attackers’ feet disappear into the forest.


	6. 3 Surprises Unforeseen

“What are you looking to sell boy?” The man smiles greedily, rubbing his hands together from behind the low table we were seated at.  
“I found this large blue stone in the forest and was wondering how much it was worth,” I say bringing the stone forth. I set it gently on the table, and the man eyes it carefully.  
“It is a beautiful stone in great condition. Let me test its qualities...” he trails off, pulling out an array of equipment. He performs a bunch of tests, writing stuff on a scroll, and seeming overall baffled. Then, at last, he pulls out a small mallet, one that Gertrude uses to test our knee and elbow reflexes when we get hurt. He taps the stone, and I look at him in confusion.  
A dull ringing is hanging in the air from the impact.   
The tent flap opens then, allowing another man in. He shares distinct qualities with the other man, so I assume they are siblings or something.  
“What are you doing with something from those cursed mountains boy? The king’s men are out searching for something matching that stone’s description. Get out. We want no part in that devil’s business.” With that, he grabbed me by the collar and threw me out of the tent. I stumble, then regain my footing.  
Elaina seems to have wandered off, and I am a little bit worried, but figure she had bumped into someone and was with them. I doubt her father would try anything in such a public place. It was quite uncommon for disputes to break out between a father and his sixteen-year-old daughter.   
I decided to just wander around for a little while and move between the stalls. Nothing any more interesting than any other year.  
Until someone screams off in the distance a little ways.   
I seem to have the same idea as three others in the crowd. Recognizing two of them immediately as Horst and Roran, I am unconcerned. There is another man around the corner who takes off at a fast speed. I can’t quite tell who it is though, because they wear a cloak over their body, concealing any defining features that might be seen.  
To my disappointment, the stranger breaks the tree line first, and he mutters a few words in a different language. The gruff voice is vaguely familiar, and I don’t think he notices that I am following him. Then, when he is done speaking, a light appears in front of him and launches forward, the man following.   
I instantly tail him.  
When I finally catch up, trained hunter’s legs speeding past Roran and Horst by quite some distance, I pull my bow off of my back and notch an arrow, aiming at the man. I don’t know if I have the guts to release it, but I know I would do anything to protect someone in need, like the person laying on the ground. Especially because the person who is on the ground is Nina.  
The hood has fallen off his head, and the salt and pepper hair of the old storyteller Brom is revealed to my eyes. He has a hand leveled above her heart and is muttering strange words over her, but I get the sense that it’s meant to help her. I lower my weapon and quickly notice that there are fresh bruises across her shoulders and neck where she had probably been grabbed by the attacker.   
Then, before my very eyes, they fade and disappear into nothingness under a glow emitted from his hand.   
I can’t help but stare in astonishment.  
“Who... What are you?”  
“I am Brom, the storyteller. You don’t honestly think that all of my stories are false or made up? I have traveled across these lands gathering and experiencing these stories myself. I picked up a little bit of magic along the way. Not that you deserve to know. I am telling the soul that I am healing so that she is not wary.” His eyes travel back up to my best friend's face. I see that her eyes are slightly open and that she is conscious of what we are saying.  
I drop down and grab her hand and as Brom resumes his endless chanting until the bruises are gone.   
“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I didn’t mean to leave you vulnerable. I’m sorry,” I say but stop when her eyes widen.  
“What did you just do?” She asks, shifting her eyes from mine to the old man. He smirks.  
“Just a present for you, so that you can heal faster.” Then, he is up and walking back to the bustling little village. I pick her up and walk to the edge of the treeline before she stops me. Roran and Horst see us as they reappear from the treeline, looking more than a little baffled. I shake my head at them, letting them know I had it handled.  
“I am not broken, I can walk. God, I feel really energetic now. What did he do to me?” She ponders aloud as her eyes follow him into the crowd until she loses sight of him.  
“We should go home for a few and hide the stone.The merchant said the king’s men have been about searching for it. Whatever it is must have some great value for him to send men so far for it. It’s getting late and after this newest development, I think maybe it's best we both lay low for a while. Let’s tell Garrow and go home for the day.” She nods and leads me to where she says she saw them.

I walk into my room at my house and lay in the corner of our living space. This will officially be my sleeping quarters until I construct a suitable living space for her to stay in, as the gentlemanly thing to do.   
Stretching out on the floor by the fire, I smile. It will be nice knowing that the only way someone could get to her is to walk past me. And no one can sneak by me, even in my sleep.   
I hear a few tapping noises from where my bag is. I move to it and lift it. Then remembering the item that lay inside it, I shifted. Lifting the stone, I place it in front of me, and return to my horizontal position, facing the oblong object. I let my eyes lazily scan the surface, drooping tiredly at it, noticing all of the little imperfections in the cerulean color.  
The tapping sounds again, and I am sure it is from the stone this time when it abruptly stops.  
I glare at it intently, wondering what is happening. Elaina walks in as the tapping begins again. The look on her face confirms that I am not hearing things. Her nose scrunches up and eyebrows draw together, tilting her head slightly.   
Then the stone begins to shake. Nina moves towards me as I sit up and get into a crouch, pushing her behind me. A spidery patchwork of cracks spreads over the shell, as I now realize it is.  
Then, just as quickly as everything else, the azure egg, as we now clearly see that it is, just shatters.  
I hold up my hands to block the little shards from my face. Then I move them to see a little blue... thing... sitting where my beautiful stone once was. I stare dumbfounded until Nina gasps behind me.   
“What?”  
“Do you know what that is Ery?”  
“No...”  
“It’s a dragon!” My eyes widen, and I glance from her back to the creature. “Do you know what this means?” I again shake my head. “It chose one of us! We have to see who it chose. Walk to the other side of the room.”  
I do so and see the dragon follows me.  
“Oh my gosh! You’re gonna be a rider!” I smile nervously and reach out to touch the little creature's head. Searing pain shoots through my arm as our skin makes contact. 

Nina’s POV

I can’t help but jump at the blood-curdling scream that tears from his throat and catch him as he falls towards the ground. I am suddenly stopped.  
A small growl has erupted and scared the crap out of me.   
I glance down at the little winged creature, no longer than my arm. Its little tail wraps around his wrist as I lift him gently, grateful for the years of work giving me the strength to do so. I walk down the hall carrying them both and lay them on the bed and begin to leave when I get an idea.  
It’s no secret that we both have feelings deeper than friends for each other. Especially with all that has happened in the last few days. I decide to do it and move back to the bed. Carefully I climb in on top of the covers and snuggle up to the boy who has always cared for me.  
I slowly drift off to sleep with a smile as his arm subconsciously wraps around me. 

Ery’s POV

I wake to three odd surprises: a burning sensation up and down my right arm. An arm that is wrapped around something small, which is leaned on and snuggled to my right side. My other arm is wrapped in something, a small scaly appendage, also pressing into my opposite side.  
I looked down to see two living beings sharing my bed with me. One I’ve known forever, and one I’m sure I will know forever. Elaina had snuggled into my side in the night. I smile, seeing that she is finally accepting my affection. The other one would come to be my best friend in the place of someone who I hope will become something more.   
I nudge the little dragon with my arm and lift it so I can sit up. Then, taking a chance, gave Nina a quick peck on the lips. It was my first kiss, and I know it had been hers too. I pulled back to see her eyes were no longer closed, but wide open and shining with emotion. Still hovering above her, I wait to get a reaction because I can’t discern what they are.   
Then, after a minute of staring at each other, she leans up and places a slow, firm kiss on my lips.   
“I have wanted to do that for a while now.” I stare at her in shock and she smiles. I am about to reply when a little chirping interrupts us.   
“I’m guessing you want some food, huh?” The creature looks at me, obviously confused.  
“You know, that funny feeling in your stomach? That is hunger. I will go get some meat,” Nina says, chuckling and running to the kitchen. I stare at the little dragon.   
“What am I gonna do with you?”  
“Easy. We will keep her in the loft of the barn, above the horses. I’m sure I could find some old rags I hid near your house for...” She trails off with a distanced look in her eyes.  
“For what?”  
“Bandages. In case my wounds reopened.” I cringe being reminded of what that bastard did to her.   
“Wait... How did you know this creature is a female?”  
She makes a face and walks back out of the room motioning for me to follow her.


	7. Stories Told

Nina’s POV

I scrounged what I could from my secret keeps on the edges of the forest. It isn’t much, but it's enough for me to weave into a small little nest. I had nestled it in the hollow of a tree then placed a large chunk of bark over the opening to prevent scavengers from stealing it, in case my father decided to try starving my sister or me again. Running with it back towards our house, I make my way to the barn, wear Eragon sits waiting to feed the little dragon.   
He is chuckling, and I wait by the doors silently to see why.   
Eragon reaches into the satchel of meat from a short hunt and pulls a dried strip out. Then, he tosses it into the air. A little blue blur leaps and catches it in mid-air. I make my presence known, and chuckle along with him.   
He hands me a piece as I sit.  
“You know you want to," he says, giving me a look. I kiss his cheek, then toss the meat up. Turning back, I notice that he seems to have a confused look on his face before he turns to look at me. I stare back, a silent question in my eyes.  
“Where do we stand Elaina? I understand if you don’t want to be with me, but I also don’t want to lose you. I mean, you’re the only real friend I have outside of Roran, Albriech, and Baldor. Besides, we’re-!” I cut his rambling off with a kiss on the lips. I pull back, then stare into his eyes for a moment. They sparkle with happiness and I chuckle again at the goofy smile on his face.  
“Yes.”  
That’s all I say before he stands, picking me up and spins me around in a circle. I giggle and blush in embarrassment. When he sets me down, we hug before sitting back down together. He leans back against the wall, and I lean on him. Then, as an afterthought, I lean forward and gently remove a piece of fabric from the dragoness’s jaws, which she had been gnawing on contentedly.   
“I’m going to begin weaving her little nest ok?” Ery hums, and I look up to see him half asleep already. I sigh and shake my head.  
“I hope you don’t turn out to be as much of a sleepy-head as he is," I say to the little creature and smirk when she snorts indignantly. “You are gonna be quite the intelligent little character, hm?” I say patting her head.   
Light, rhythmic snoring fills the air, and I listen for a while, before shaking myself back into reality. I set a fast pace and begin weaving one strip over another tightly, one at a time. I make it large, because I don’t know how fast the little creature would grow. I also take care to make it extra thick so it can be warm enough for the cold winter nights. Then a thought strikes me. I shake Ery back to consciousness.  
“Are we gonna tell anyone about her?” He thinks on it for a moment before shaking his head.  
“I think this should be our little secret, don’t you?”  
I don’t answer, because I don’t know what the answer to his question is. On the one hand, this could be a great benefit to the village, and everyone would be so happy. On the other... Everyone could hate us, enough to try to kill not only the little dragon but Eragon too. Not only that, but King Galbatorix would very well come and force him to be a mindless slave.   
I nod my head in agreement, fearing either of those paths, daring not to risk it.  
We sit in silence for a few moments before he moves beside me.   
“Deitiankea?” He asks, while turning his head to the dragon, who stares at him like he is crazy. As do I.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I'm trying to find a name for her. I doubt she will be leaving us anytime soon. Saraphina?” I understand what he’s trying to do. I just know he won’t be able to come up with any good ones, so I shoot some off myself.  
“Lizzie? April? Ophelia?” None of them fit. I get the feeling this is going to take us a while to decide on something permanent. 

We left the dragon when she fell asleep, an hour before sundown. Then, we saddled our horses and rode into town. His hand was wrapped in some bandages as if to hide a wound. The horses were tied to a post and we walked through town lightly gripping each other’s hands to stay together in the crowd surrounding the traders. We met up with Roran, when Eragon said he needed to go somewhere, and that he would be back soon. Roran chuckled.  
“What's so funny?” He shakes his head. “Come on tell me!”  
“You’re so oblivious sometimes! By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice you guys holding hands. I’m happy for you," he says smiling softly with a gentle hand in my shoulder. I smile when a thought comes to me.  
“How are you and Katrina coming along? I know Sloan isn’t your biggest fan...” I loved the older girl dearly, as she had, over the years, began to play a more motherly role for me. Especially when my sister and I had become women.  
“I think I am going to propose to her soon, after I get back from work in Therinsford.” I had completely forgotten he was leaving soon! He said it would be around the time the snow fell. I frown at this thought.  
“You should hurry and get ready to go. I don’t think you two would want to miss Brom’s storytelling. I believe he was telling some of the children if they behaved, he would tell of the riders again.” I chuckle, but the thought of the old man gives me pause as I touch my healed back. What was he, to have such power?  
“Thanks. I guess we will see you down there in a while. Bye!” I shout, running out the door.  
I look around as Eragon jogs up next to me.  
“Come here, I found something," he whispers to me excitedly before dragging me along behind him, causing some older couples around us to chuckle at his childishness.  
He leads me to a small run-down house, and takes me up the steps. When we reach the door he puts a finger to his lips to hush my unspoken disapproval. He leads me into the front room, which is filled with books and shelves. The far wall has a fireplace with a small couch opposite it.  
My thoughts are ripped from the decor as he points to a book with a dragon-shaped lock. As he opens his mouth to speak, he is interrupted by a voice.  
“If you wanted to read a book, you should have just asked, boy.” The old man seems angry at our intrusion, however when we each realize who the other is, we relax.   
“No, sir.” There's a pause before, “Can I ask you a question?”  
Brom nods, albeit unsurely. We all stand in silence, wondering what the boy could want to ask him.   
“Back in the times of dragons, what names would they give them? Who were the bravest dragons?”  
“What brought on such wild questions boy? You know we could be arrested if they hear us speaking of such things?” His eyes glance swiftly to Eragon’s hands as if looking for something but narrow at the sight of a tattered, bandaged hand.  
“Well, there were many dragons, dragons who completed mighty tasks and earned glory for their names. Jura, Hirador, Fundor, Galzra, Briam, Ohen the Strong, Gretiem, Beroan, Roslarb, Vanilor, Eridor, Ingothold, Miremel, Lenora...” He trailed off, but as an afterthought whispered another name. “Saphira.”  
The last one struck a chord within me and I saw in Eragon’s eyes he felt it too. Brom spoke the last name with so much sorrow, as though he was whispering the name of a dead child or friend.   
Before we could say anything more, he was ushering us towards the door.  
“Get out now, I must prepare to tell my stories.”  
We hurry out the doors. He takes my hand and we walk at a leisurely pace to the large bonfire near where we had danced yesterday. Sitting down on the logs, he turns to me.   
“That last name really stuck with me, it was the only feminine name that seemed proud enough for the dragon. I think I will still propose the other names, but she will most likely agree with me.”  
“I know. It almost seemed like Brom knew the owner of the name personally, not just through the stories he has heard.”   
We sit in silence then, looking forward to the man of our thoughts, coming, and sharing more of his wondrous tales, which he swears are true.  
Suddenly, one of the gypsies throws a powder over the fire, changing the color and creating more smoke. A drummer starts a slow haunting beat, and a few figures approach from behind the shadows. A low voice begins it’s rhythmic tale, his face coming to the light.  
“The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not...but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us.  
Before your grandfather’s fathers were born, and yeah, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years, they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each of them had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them. For good only were their powers used, and there under their tutelage tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept the peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends. Wealth flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep... for it could not last.  
Though no enemy could destroy them, they could not guard against themselves. And it came to pass at the height of their power that a boy, Galbatorix by name, was born in the province of Inzilbeth, which is no more. At ten he was tested, as was the custom, and it was found that great power resided within him. The Riders accepted him as their own.   
Through their training he passed, exceeding all others in skill. Gifted with a sharp mind and a strong body, he quickly took his place among the Rider’s ranks. Some saw his abrupt rise as dangerous and warned the others, but the Riders had grown arrogant in their power and ignored caution. Alas, sorrow was conceived on that day.  
So it was after his training finished, that Galbatorix took a reckless trip with two friends. Far north they flew, night and day, and passed into the Urgals’ remaining territory, foolishly thinking their new powers would protect them. There on a thick sheet of ice, unmelted even in the summer, they were ambushed in their sleep. Though his friends and their dragons were butchered and he suffered great wounds, Galbatorix slew his attackers. Tragically, during the fight, a stray arrow pierced his dragon’s heart. Without the arts to save her, she died in his arms. Then were the seeds of madness planted.”  
The shadows danced across his sunken features, causing him to look darker and more dramatic, adding to the mood the story had taken.  
“Alone, bereft of much of his strength and half-mad with loss, Galbatorix wandered without hope in that desolate land, seeking death. It did not come to him, though he threw himself without fear against any living thing. Urgals and other living things. Urgals and other monsters soon fled from his haunted form. Eventually a young rider to a white dragon, the mighty Kolwar took him in. She, an elven warrior, nursed him back to health and did what she could to heal his broken heart. Nothing would stop him from the treasonous actions he took next, however.  
During this time he came to realize that the Riders might grant him another dragon. Driven by this thought, he began the arduous journey. on foot, back through the Spine. The territory he had soared over effortlessly on the dragon’s back now took him months to traverse. He could hunt with magic, but oftentimes he walked in places animals did not travel. Thus when his feet finally left the mountains, he was close to death. A farmer found him collapsed in the mud and summoned the Riders.  
Unconscious, he was taken to their holdings, and his body healed. He slept for four days. Upon awakening, he gave no sign of his fevered mind. When he was brought before the council who had convened to judge him, Galbatorix demanded another dragon. The desperation of this request revealed his dementia, the council saw him for what he truly was. Denied of his hope, Galbatorix, through the twisted mirror of his madness, came to believe it was the Riders’ fault his dragon had died. Night after night he brooded on that and formulated a plan to exact revenge.”  
Brom’s voice dropped to a saddened, mesmerizing whisper.  
“He found a sympathetic Rider, and there his insidious words took root. By persistent reasoning and the use of dark secrets learned from a shade, he inflamed the Rider against their elders. Together they treacherously lured and killed an elder. When the foul deed was done, Galbatorix turned on his ally and slaughtered him without warning. The Riders found him, then, with blood dripping from his hands. A scream tore from his lips, and he fled into the night. As he was cunning in his madness, they could not find him.   
For years he hid in the wastelands like a hunted animal, always watching for pursuers. His atrocity was never forgotten, but over time the searches ceased. Then through some ill fortune, he met a young Rider, Morzan - strong of body but weak of mind. Galbatorix convinced him to leave a gate unbolted in the citadel of Illirea, which is now called Uru’baen. Through this gate, Galbatorix entered and stole a dragon hatchling.  
He and his new disciple hid in an evil place where the Riders dared not venture. There Morzan entered into a dark apprenticeship, learning secrets and forbidden magic that should never have been revealed. When his instruction was complete, and Galbatorix’s black dragon, Shruikan, was fully grown, Galbatorix, along with the other riders he had swayed to his madness, attacked the riders one by one. They slew man and woman, dragon and hatchling alike. In one of the final battles, the rider who had taken him in all that time ago tried but failed to talk sense to him. It is said their battle lasted a day and a night, and their cries could be heard for miles before the unnamed elven woman fell on his sword.   
They killed every rider and dragon in the order, and the Foresworn began their dark reign under Galbatorix. However, in his madness, one by one, the Foresworn were killed by the mad king for one treason or another, until at last fifteen years ago the last of the foresworn were killed.”  
The area was quiet and eyes were solemn as we mulled over the history of the land, and the genocide of a noble people the likes of which the world may never know again.   
“It is said though, that still in Alegaesia there are three living dragon eggs, one with the elves in Elesmera yet to hatch and two with the mad king, to petrify in the sands of time. Though many still hold out hope that the time of the riders will come again.”  
I finally grew tired of listening, as I had heard the story so many times before that I knew it word for word. Instead, my thoughts drifted to the boy beside me, who seemed completely engrossed in the storytelling. I shift to be a little closer and lean on him. To my surprise, he lifts his hand from mine and wraps his arm around me, pressing a kiss to my forehead before he turns back to Brom. I smile slightly and drift off to sleep.


	8. Names and Secrets

Eragon’s POV

Yawning, I get up and walk to the barn. A little flutter sounds from above, and the little dragon lands in front of me. She has grown over the past three days and is now at my knee. We have all been huddled up trying to stay warm, but I have had to sneak off once or twice to hunt some rabbits for the dragon.   
I still haven’t presented the names to her yet.  
Roran and I have kept ourselves occupied with short playful sparring matches, whilst Nina sat nearby and observed. When I would have to go clean the stables, she would come with me and keep the dragon calm. Wouldn’t want Garrow finding her in here...  
The little thing purrs and nudges my leg, then climbs up to my shoulder, playfully swatting at my ear. She continues until we move into one of the occupied stalls.  
The horse inside, my own horse, begins to frantically shake it’s head, rearing at the sight of the dragon on my shoulder.   
I hurry to hush the horse, and, in order to get it used to the thing, even a little bit, I lead him straight to the small creature. She had fluttered to the floor when the horse began panicking. He calms down after a little while, and I get on with cleaning the stalls as he curiously sniffs at the little beast.  
As the two interacts, I mull over the last few days. Sarah, Elaina's sister, moved into the room with Elaina but hasn't spoken or eaten in the time she has been here. We are getting concerned and are trying everything to get her to eat. Nina is so worried, and tells me how every time she goes in, her sister is in the same position, laying facing the wall with her arms across her stomach. She hardly sleeps, neither of them do.  
I finally went to Gertrude last night to ask for a plant or anything that would help the two of them sleep. I am going to slip the herbs into their drinks tonight so they might get a good rest.   
As I am thinking this, I feel something in my head, brushing against my very soul.  
I jump back and yelp as whatever it is does it again. I glare suspiciously around and my eyes connect with a sparkling blue and she leans towards me in concentration and does it again.  
“What should we call you? Jura, Hirador, Fundor, Galzra, Briam, Ohen the Strong, Gretiem, Beroan, Roslarb, Vanilor, Eridor, Ingothold, Miremel, Lenora? Only some of them are feminine, unless you want to sound like a man...” She snorts at me.  
“I forgot the last one! Would you like to hear it? ” She stares at me with intelligent eyes and crawls over. “Saphira.”  
The name is a whisper past my lips, but the spark in my head is like fire, like fitting the last puzzle piece into place. The feeling you get when someone calls a horse a donkey, and you correct yourself, because there is no other proper name for it. The consciousness brushes mine, stronger and our minds connect.  
I get images of frolicking, gliding and observing in the small barn, all playing behind my eyes at once, making me dizzy. I lean up against the barn door for support. Then, as I wonder if this was the only way she can communicate, a word echoes through my head, saying one word, a name.  
Saphira.  
I am stunned into silence as she repeats the name, her name. Her voice is soft and low, soothing my ears. It reminds me of a drifting lullaby from a long time ago, one that barely remains in the reaches of my mind.   
I shake the thoughts from my head, knowing it would only bring me down. Sighing, I smile at the newly named creature, and let it fade to contentedness I often felt around her. It was like I wasn’t complete without her around.   
It was the same of another brown haired female who is just across the way.

Winter passed by in a routine. I would go out and hunt whilst the girls stayed home and cleaned or mended our clothes. Then Sara would cook us wonderful meals from whatever was left from my hunts. After, Elaina and I would sit together hand in hand and speak about whatever was on our minds.  
They still had horrible nightmares, but now took the medicine without us forcing it. Sara started eating, but only a little. She still didn’t speak, and it worried me when she would pause in whatever she was doing and stare, before tears would fall down her face. Or when one of us men would touch her by accident and she would flinch away, as if expecting to be hit. She seemed more afraid of us the Elaina ever was.  
Their father hadn’t been seen in weeks.   
After the first few weeks, I had begun to grow suspicious, but then I figured he would have left, ashamed by the scene he had caused in town. There were whispers that he had wondered into the Spine, never to be seen again. I asked around every now and then to be sure, but nothing came up aside from the dark speculations.  
The snow would be melting soon, and by now Saphira had grown too big to be kept in the barn. A few weeks ago, almost a month now, I had moved her outside with the help of Elaina and showed her to hunt. She was very prideful, and the few words she knew proved this. She was quite proud of her first catch, a large mouse.  
Saphira is at shoulder height with me now.  
I’m on my way back from visiting her in her little clearing in the woods. She had cut her mental connection with me to hunt, so it was quiet in my head for once. I get into the house and hear the quiet sound of sobbing coming from my room.

Sara’s POV 

Oh my god.  
That’s the only thought I am able to process after I had come to my revelation. a broken sob tore from my throat as I tried to comprehend what was going on. I recount the number of days since I had left that god forsaken house, and came up with the same result. 54 days had passed in this mild winter that has brought such sadness to me.   
As I continue to ball my eyes out, I wrap my arms around my stomach as if protecting myself and curl into a ball in the corner. I hear someone knock on my door, but I whisper for them to leave me be. They ignore and come into the room, and I find it was my sister. She cautiously stepped over to me and places a hand on my shoulder.   
“What is wrong?”  
I refuse to glance at her because I know Eragon is standing in the doorway. I glance towards the door and she nods in understanding.   
“Ery, would you mind tending the fire for a little? It’s kind of cool in here.” He looks at her confusedly, then nods and leaves, shutting the door giving us some privacy. She swipes my long blonde hair away from my fae and behind my ears, revealing the wet marks trailing down my cheeks.  
“Come on sis, what is it?”  
Cautiously, I unfold from my fetal position and move towards her. I grab her hand and we move to sit side by side on the bed. Then still holding her hand, but not meeting her eyes, I move her hand to rest it upon my stomach. I finally raise my tearful eyes to hers, and her confused look changes to that of understanding, shock and horror, and I look away thinking she was mad.  
“Is it... Papa’s?”  
I nod and break down sobbing loudly unable to control myself as I sob until there is nothing left in me. Our hands still rest on my stomach where a small being, my own half sibling, my own child, is growing. Elaina pulls me into a hug, and I cry into her shoulder.  
My sister knew what papa did to me, and while I hated it and had begged many times for him to stop every time, I would never wish it upon her. Now it was my cross to bear his child and raise it to be better than he ever was. No one would judge me for my age, but all would wonder who the father was. I don’t know what I will do about that, let alone find some way of supporting us.   
The only way for me to keep our heads above water would be marrying a wealthy man, and keeping a job myself, before the child was known about by everyone. There were only two boys my age who weren’t betrothed. Luckily I knew them, and they knew of my predicament. All I had to do was get one of them to love me, which wouldn’t be too hard because one of them already reciprocated my long subdued feelings. I would have to go speak to him soon.   
For now however, I allowed myself to cry into my little sister’s scarred shoulders, bowed from years of work and harsh beatings we had both endured after our mother’s death.   
The thought of my mother always brought some memories to my head of a secret my mother had told me, and made me swear not to tell anyone. Not even Elaina was aware of our mother’s true identity. Nor the secret identity of our father, the man who kept us captive our whole lives.  
I cried myself to sleep that night over all of the distressing things in my head, and didn’t know just what I had on the path ahead of me.


	9. Left in Confusion

Sara’s POV

I am sitting behind Elaina on her horse as we ride through town. I hide my face so none can see my tears. Clutching to her I sob once. I silently thank the gods I had kept my hair as my mother and sister kept theirs, long and for the most part loose. Now it fell low over my shoulders, hiding the little bit of my face that was open to the cool morning air. To watchers by it would look like I merely slept leaned up against my sister.  
I feel so guilty for going to see him like this and have decided not to ask him for anything, only to say goodbye to my dear Terry, and to have him give his wishes to his brother, Sam. I smile at the mental image of the twins, running around in the yard a few weeks ago, pretending the sticks they held were swords for my entertainment. Their black hair flopped around wildly. I can only tell the difference between them because Terry has bright emerald eyes, and Sam has his mother’s electric blue coloring. On the nights my father would stay in town at the tavern, they would come and keep me company until my sister came home to stay with me.  
I sob again, knowing this would probably be one of the last times I see those gorgeous eyes. I had made up my mind, and I knew what I was going to do. I had seen, from afar how the war had ravaged this town, if not the country. The boys from the town only slightly older than Terry and myself, gone off to the King’s war to never come home. It was not the future I want for my child, boy or girl.  
“Shhh... You are ok. He can’t hurt us anymore. He is gone. Come on, look, I can see Terry’s house over there!” Tarpin stops at the pull of his reins in front of the local tavern. I almost laugh at the irony of it. This was the place my father often came home from, drunkenly steering his horse home to be my life’s terror. My sister gets off first, as my best friend shows his face.  
“Sara! Its be-” He cuts himself off when he sees my tears and runs over to help me down. “What’s wrong honey? Come on, let’s get you inside and out of the cold. Then we can discuss things.”  
He holds my hand and tells Elaina she can out the horse in the stables, and asks her to watch the bar. She agrees quickly, knowing we need to speak alone. I walk silently through the boisterous scene, his arm around me helping me relax slightly. Terry leads me upstairs and sits me down at the table.  
“Are your parents home?”  
“Nah they are out of town getting supplies. What has happened? I saw the scene that old man made about your sister a few weeks ago, and I haven’t seen you in months!”  
I break down sobbing telling him about my father. I leave out the bit about the baby, as I don’t know what he will think. He just looks so angry...  
“Are you gonna be alright?” He asks it so suddenly and with so much concern as he holds me in a tender embrace.  
“I don’t know, with the ba-” My hands shoot up to my mouth from shock, I had meant to hide that from him but Terry knew me so well, he would know there was more to my tale.  
“With what? You can tell me. I love you and want to help. Please.”  
His confession stuns me, but I know I have to tell him. Just like with Elaina, I look away from him as I take his hand and place it over my stomach. I finally look back at him as he stares at me in confusion.   
I say the two words that would make this nightmare real. I had yet to utter them out loud, fearing that the monsters drawing up from the truth to them.  
“I’m pregnant.” He stares at me, seemingly taking in the information my voice, rough from my sobs, has just given him. His expression changes from shock to anger to sorrow and settles on the determination.  
“I’m so sorry Sara. I want to help in any way I can. Now, do you have a plan for what you want to do?”  
I nod my head shakily.  
“I want to go to the Varden.” He stares at me incredulously but I continue. “I want this child to grow up in a better world than I did. With at least a loving mother to care for her. That is a life I know I can’t give her here in the Empire. You don’t have to help. I just came to say goodbye.”  
“Let me get this straight. You mean you want to try to go there all alone, at this time of year?” I nod, jaw set with the trails from my tears drying on my face.  
He shakes his head vehemently.  
“I am going with you. As I have stated earlier, I love you and want to help in any way I can. Plea-” I cut him off by kissing him softly.  
“I love you too. If it is what you really want, I can’t stop you from coming along. Once this is all over, as I get the feeling something big is coming, we can return home and raise this child. I don’t expect anything from you, so don’t worry if you don’t want to leave home for me, or want to come back before I do. Thank you, though.”  
“What for?”  
“For being here for me. There is no one else I would rather have accompanying me.”

Elaina’s POV

Eragon didn’t know why Sara was leaving, or where she was going, but after seeing the state we were in, he knew it was important and helped us pack without questioning. Three days into packing, Terry’s parents came back, saddened that their twenty-year-old son was leaving so suddenly.   
Now, a week later, they were waiting inside the tavern as I saddled their horses, staying warm by the fire and eating one last big meal. I take my time, not really ready to say goodbye to my last living relative. My eyes meet her oceanic blue ones from across the table and we both let the gentle smiles on our faces show, a bitter sadness at the turn our lives had taken. We were both free of our tormentor, but still the future was so unknown and we would not have the one comfort in it we had our whole lives; Each other.  
However, some time as the sun finally shows over the snowy peaks of the Spine, I finish the job of saddling her horse and walk to the house to say my farewell.  
Sara stands and walks over, and hugs me tightly. I have to restrain myself from bawling my eyes out, but cannot help the sniffle that escapes me.  
“I love you, dear,” She says in a motherly voice, pulling back to hold me at arm's length. She stares into my eyes, her blue ones locking onto my brown eyes for one last time. “I know we haven’t always been the closest, but I want you to come to see me again someday. I would be saddened if you never got to act as an aunt for my children. I hope someday, our little ones can sit together by the fire as we sing lullabies and tell them stories.”  
I smile at her as tears trickle down my face before I grab her hand and lock our pinkies together.  
“I swear I will do everything in my power to see you again.”  
I then walk over to Terry, who has finally been released from a tight embrace by Sam. I shake his hand, then level a stern glare at him.   
“You better take good care of my sister and her future child, or I will give you quite a butt-kicking, you hear?” He nods, then I hug him.  
Soon enough, we all make our way to the door and I help Sara onto her horse. I stare up into her eyes, eyes that have ridiculed me and helped me and understood me. As I stare at them something clicks in my head. Something powerful, lighting a fire in my heart. Now I am prepared to make a promise I know I can keep.  
“Sara.”  
She looks at me expectantly, and I stare at her with a face set in unrivaled determination.  
“I swear I will do everything in my power to make this place safe for us to come back to. I will set Alagaesia free again. I swear this on my life.”  
The precession of people here to say goodbye to them, along with Terry and Sara themselves, are staring at me with mixed emotions. I know only a few heard me, so I repeat it again louder.  
“I swear I will do everything in my power to make this place safe for us to come back to. I will set Alagaesia free again. I swear this on my life.”   
Now I can see clearly the emotions barred before me. I glance first at the others here to say farewells. Those who know me are staring at me, they are smiling, knowing I would keep this promise, a promise I would die to fulfill. Those who don’t know me are watching me with a mix of emotions, as though they are unsure. Most don’t seem to believe me. All of them have a sparkle of hope in their eyes, which is all I need.  
My eyes sweep up to see Sara’s, and her eyes are full of tears, but she is smiling the most meaningful smile I have ever seen.  
I had never seen her smile with any emotion before, and I knew why. For years, when I was young, she would always tell me that we would never get away. We would be stuck with our monster of a father. Even as she bound my wounds though, I would tell her that I would get us out of there. We would be free.  
I never said it with the determination I felt earlier.  
“I know you will. I look forward to that day, Elaina Caesura. Until then, stay safe. Amin mela lle.”   
And with that she spurred her horse forward and rode away.  
Rode away with the answers to my question: What did she mean when she called me by that name, and those last few words she had whispered to me? I stared after her long blonde hair, flipping wildly as the air rushed past her. I knew I would get no answer until next, I saw her.


	10. Lift Off

Elaina POV

The months passed by quickly, and before we knew it, spring had arrived. I spent the winter putting some blankets together from our pelts, in order to keep us warm. Some were made of soft rabbit furs that Ery and I got from hunting, some from the fur of shaved sheep they had no use for in the barn. Eragon spent his time hunting, as well as with me and the dragon, and telling us fantastic stories.   
Right now, as I walk out the door and drop the shawl that has hung around my shoulders for the winter months like a shadow, the ground is covered in dead grass. It is such a great improvement from the endless white rolling hills where the crops are grown. I scan the tree line and notice, with the brightest smile I have ever had, that there are little buds of leaves sprouting from the tall trees of the forest.   
Eragon walks blearily up next to me, having heard the door swing open when I walked out. I have been up since before the sun rose, speaking to Saphira whom we had snuck in the window to my room when she had pointed out the snow-free ground as she swooped back to the forest, the image blasted through my mind with a string of confused emotions.  
He touches my back, a greeting and a reminder of the scars I have there from the past. Walking next to me, he takes my hand and we lock eyes, brown on blue.   
"We should go to town and visit everyone. It has been almost a month since we have gone back and Gertrude wants to do one last check in on your back." I nod, I have been anxious to get out, and Tarpin needs to get out of the stall. Saphira swoops down as we walk to the barn because she had been moved into the forest, she had to be careful about being seen. I note that her shoulder is level with mine when she sits tall. We banter back and forth as we tack our horses, and occasionally brush skin as we work, making me blush.  
We are quite the awkward couple, and mind the other's space and not push the other too far. Neither of us has done more than hold hands before, and are too nervous to do anything else. Even so, we are much like we were before, except we are more loving, and look out for the other more. The one thing I am most afraid of though; the fact that my affection for him only deepens, and I can't stop it.  
That would be fine if I knew that something wasn't stirring on the horizon.  
I'm no fool, and as much as he denies it, Saphira can't stay here. Someone will notice her, and he will become a slave to the bastard king. She is the only free dragon, and he, her rider. As much as he might hate it, they have a duty to the people, to free them from the tyranny of the black king, as well as restore the riders.  
What are you thinking about? In the last few months Saphira’s language, though rough, has gone from nothing but images sent across our minds to speaking in broken short sentences.  
Nothing to be concerned about yet dear. I will tell you soon enough. She gives a nod and dragon-esk smile. We ride out, and she stays with us as we move down the path until the first house enters our vision. Nudging our shoulders with her snout, she gives a blunt goodbye and flies back to the woods.  
Finally, after a bit more small talk over who we would go see, the town is around us. My first stop is at Gertrude's, while Ery is going to see Elain and Horst. I knock on her door politely and hear footsteps.   
"Ah, come in dear, I have been wondering when you'd be back. Come, lay down," she gestures at the large couch, and I pull my shirt over my head so she can see my back as I lay on my stomach. She hums a soft, fluid melody as her light fingers trace the healed wounds.   
"Well, there was no permanent muscle damage, but I say be careful so you don't get hurt anymore. You've seen enough pain. There is minimal scarring from the recent injuries, but the old ones are like a mesh of scarred flesh. You are very brave to have stayed for as long as you did."  
Or too weak to leave...  
After a few more quiet minutes of poking and prodding I left, mounted Tarpin and walked the little ways to Horst's house. The door is open, and a group is huddled in the kitchen where I can see, so I allow myself in. Then someone raises their voice.  
“They shouldn’t be here, they’ll just cause trouble for us all. Damned King’s henchmen, Now what are we gonna do?” Albriech said it like it was poison on his tongue.   
“Watch yourself, you never know who will hear you. I agree but for now, we need to all stick together and wait it out. No use being brash about it,” Horst says, seemingly playing the peacekeeper.   
“What happened?”  
“Flayer’s barn was burned down by some soldiers, and rumors have gone around about the two mysterious cloaked men have been wandering around asking some weird questions again." Eragon and I share a worried look.  
"Questions about what, might I ask?"  
"Something valuable was taken from the king, and he wants it back. Some kind of stone."   
I feel the pallor drain from my face because I know exactly what they speak of. Saphira's egg.   
We continue to carry out a light conversation, belaying the thoughts of the king’s men, until I finally make up an excuse that we need to gather supplies for a hunting trip. After we leave, I pull Eragon aside into a small alley.  
"We can't stay any longer Eragon. If we do, they will find you and make you slaves to the king."  
"We?"  
"You don't think I would let you leave here all alone, would you? Goodness no!"   
"Where will we go?"   
"South, to Surda, or to hide in the mountains, Galbatorix fears them too much to look for us there. Then we can decide on more pressing matters. We have to get away from Galbatorix's reach first though. OK?" He nods. "Let's gather our supplies now, I want to leave as fast as possible."  
As we go to collect meat, we see that the strangers are in the shop. Sloan is telling them about the stone. I glance at Eragon recalling a particular argument over whether or not to try selling it to the butcher.   
Damn him! I say to Eragon. He glances at me, then leans forward to see better, when they see him.  
"Eragon!" A voice shouts as they start towards us. Upon hearing the voice, they click and hiss but turn around and run away. We turn to see who it was that saved us, only to find none other than Brom.   
"You both look a tad sick. You should probably head home. Don't want you passing out without anyone noticing to help you," he says eyeing us suspiciously from under his greying brows, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  
He is on to us.  
"Good idea sir, now you mention it, I do feel a little queasy. We will be on our way now." Suddenly, the mit on Eragon's scarred hand falls off, appearing to have been tugged by some invisible force. My eyes narrow, and before we could, Brom picks it up and holds it out. Stupidly, Eragon grabs for it with the now exposed hand. I see a gleam in his eyes when he sees the scar. He says nothing but starts whistling and walks away.  
When he is gone, we turn around and continue our errands.   
We collect preservable food, extra clothes and a few weapons we know how to use. We also bought a pair of new bows and quivers, stocked full of arrows. Then a thought came to me.   
"Eragon." He glances back, noticing my serious time of voice. " You will need a new saddle soon." His eyes narrow. "For Saphira."

We stole five pelts from Gedric, not sure how many we would need. Then, after tieing everything to the horses, I saw something that sent shivers down my spine. The two hunched, cloaked figures were walking down the road towards us. I point them out to Eragon. Quickly we swing onto our horses before they can notice us and rush into the forest.   
We ride in silence, neither willing to say a word, lost in our thoughts of the upcoming journey. The forest is teeming with life today, all the creatures awake and moving about.  
At least that's what I thought until a herd of deer raced past us at top speed.   
I suddenly remembered what the cloaked men now knew. We had what they were looking for. Without sparing a glance at Eragon, I raced ahead, dreading what I would find. He soon caught on and sped on with me. We headed out onto the road to travel faster.  
Eragon no! They'll find you! Saphira's mental roar rang through my mind.   
I don't care! Garrow is in there! He yelled back fiercely.  
Suddenly, she lands in front of us and surprisingly, appears a whole foot taller than this morning. I stare up at her as she thrashes angrily in the street. In an attempt to calm her, Ery climbed onto her back, rubbing her neck and shushing her. It appeared to work, when suddenly, with a powerful flap of her young wings, they were in the sky.  
No!


	11. Unknown Heritage

Saphira, what are you doing?! They will kill Garrow! They know I had your egg, it was the king’s men!  
And they will enslave us! Those murderers will take you and make us do things we condemn to madmen. We must escape! She continues flying over the mountains when another thought enters my head. I wince at the sharp pain in my legs at the scales rubbing away at the skin and try to hide it in the mental link.  
Elaina! I shout to her across the distance, causing Saphira to stop and hover low over the mountain. I hear her voice, soft and full of fear and worry.  
Stay with Saphira, I will stay with Brom tonight. He was on the road and saw me alone with our horses. I will be OK. Just stay safe. She cut off our connection. Saphira saw fit to land, deciding we were far enough from the village.   
As she descended I shifted a little, but yelped in pain. Glancing down to the source of the pain, I was suddenly aware of the wet sensation. The inside of my thighs were bloodied and torn apart, chafed at by the rough scales on Saphira's shoulders. I hiss in pain even though she lands softly. Sensing my pain, she helps me off of her back.   
I stumble, attempting to set up camp before deciding against it. After leading me close to her side, Saphira, still huffing from the extended and overexerting flight, covers me with a wing.   
I don't feel the hunger in my stomach as she whispers to my mind,  
Goodnight little one.  
There is no reply, for I have already slipped into a fitful slumber.

"Are you sure you're alright girl?" He asks kindly, sitting in the chair across from me. I nod, allowing a peaceful silence to lull between us, aside from the crackling other fire. We both hold a steaming cup of tea. I take another sip as he speaks again.  
"I noticed your horses are packed with supplies for a long journey. If you don't mind me asking, where are you headed?"  
His question throws me for a loop, and I pause, wondering how to answer it.   
"Eragon and I are headed south. I can't bear being away from my sister, and I wasn't comfortable traveling alone. He offered to go with me." I smile, almost believing the story myself.  
"Where did your sister leave to?"   
"Feinster."  
"Why?"  
"She is expecting a little one," I say, using one of Saphira's favorite phrases.  
"Who did she take with her?"  
"Terry, the son of the couple who owns the inn down the street."  
"How old is Eragon's dragon?"  
"Five and a half mo-" Shit.  
"Wow. I am surprised I didn't notice the signs sooner, you did a fine job of hiding it." I am taken aback by how calmly he is reacting to this. "Say, what color is his dragon?"  
My eyes widen in shock and I look down at my knees, which are covered in a pair of Eragon’s trousers which are too small for him now. I twist the thread where he had sewn the knee back together with shoddy workmanship.  
I sigh, knowing we had been caught, and look into his eyes, making my decision.  
I could trust Brom.  
If I couldn’t, well then trust was a word of fairy tales that could never be proven as truth.  
"She is a beautiful azure blue," I say, smiling when his eyes lit up at the information.  
"What's her name?"  
"Saphira."  
His eyes are covered in the shadow of his brows suddenly as they furrow, and he seems to be remembering a painful memory. The firelight flickering over his sharp face gave him a sinister look, one that fits the tone of his next words well.  
"How ironic that he should choose that name when his father's dragon was the same." I look at him sharply upon hearing this.   
"Who was his father?"  
"You will both learn in time. For now, get some rest, you must leave tomorrow, no matter what. They know who you are now, and will stop at nothing to find you." I nod, and he leads me to my room for the evening. Allowing me a few moments to settle in, he offers to grab extra blankets. I nod gratefully. After I curl up in bed, he returns, but because I am breathing evenly with my as closed, he must think I am asleep.  
"You will both know the truth about your parents soon enough." With that, he kissed my forehead, like a father would his daughter, set the extra blanket over me, and left the room.  
I stayed up, pondering his words, which sounded so much like my sister's from a few weeks ago. Little did I know those words would haunt me until I finally understood what they meant. 

Eragon spoke to me in the morning, telling me to meet him at the farm. I told him Brom insisted upon coming with us, on the journey, and that he had figured out about Saphira. I left out the bit about his father, knowing it would only worry him.   
Now as I rode down the street, I worried, knowing something bad had happened. As we get closer, the smell of smoke permeates the air. The sound of wings beating above makes us stop and turn our heads. Saphira swoops down and lands between me and Brom, growling menacingly, her voice even more fearsome.  
How did you know of me? Tread carefully old man, or you shall find my bite is far worse than my bark. He smiles, unafraid of her, but rather joyful, causing her to be angrier.  
"It is wonderful to meet you Saphira brightscales, and as to your question: your foolish rider dropped his glove, revealing his gedwëy insignia to me. You should be more cautious, next time it might not be an ally who glimpses it." Saphira continues to stare at him fangs bared, as Eragon climbs down and stumbles to me. I glance over him and take note other gashes on his thigh, so deep I can't restrain a gasp at the sight of them.  
"What happened to you?" He gives me look as if to say are you serious? It only took me a moment to figure it out.  
"I could heal them if you'd like, just like I did for your back," Brom pipes in, reminding me of the strange skill he possessed that saved my life. Ery nods, grateful, and Saphira allows him to come towards us, tensed to save us should he turn on us.  
He mutters something under his breath and his hands glow a shimmering silvery-blue. The wounds on Ery's leg knit back together as his hands hover over them. Only the sound of a distant fire and the light wind occupies the area now. The rider’s face is emotionless as he is being mended until suddenly his eyes go wide.  
"We have to get to the farm, we have to save Garrow!"  
Before Brom has even completely healed the wounds, he is back on Saphira's shoulders in seconds, and they are flying towards the smoke drifting lazily over the treetops. The wind from under Saphira’s wings is hitting me, pushing back as I spur Tarpin forward. Brom leaps onto his horse and follows as swiftly as his horse can ride, quickly passing mine.  
When we arrive at the disheartening scene, we dismount and rush to help the boy, who is screaming crying for help to any who might hear. Tears are streaming down his face as he tries to shift a massive beam from something.   
The limp form of his uncle, Garrow.  
Tears sting my eyes as I join his effort to push the beam away, but as it holds firm I feel my hope crumble away, much like the walls of my temporary home had around me. Saphira’s regal head appears next to us, and she opens her strong jaw, clamping it around the wood. With one large tug, muscles of her neck rippling mightily, and she tosses the debris away.  
We race forward, ignoring the astounded look Brom is giving the dragon, who is leaning over us. After listening to his vitals, Eragon leaps up and finds an old blanket and two pieces of wood. He ties them into the corners of the blanket and looks to me.  
“Help me lift him up.”   
I do as he says without arguing, then as he is adjusting him, I grab some rope and tie it to the ends of the sticks and the horse's gear. Together, with us three running beside them, Saphira and the horses dragged them along down the road.   
It takes a while to get close enough, Saphira leaves, knowing it is too risky to stay. We continue into town without her and finally arrive at Gertrude’s home.  
“Help him, please!” Eragon shouts. He brushes the old woman off when she tries to examine his own wounds. “He is dying, I am fine! Please save him!”   
Gertrude takes Garrow into a back room, while we stay in the living room, Eragon falls into a heavy sleep upon the soft old couch, obviously exhausted from the morning's events and blood loss. His head is resting in my lap, and his mouth is open and emitting small snores. Brom is in the rocking chair across from us, smoking his pipe, which I hadn’t even seen him light. I sigh and mess with the blonde- brown locks of hair on the boys’ head.   
“We need to leave. Staying here just puts us at risk of being found out. There is nothing we can do for his uncle now.”  
“We can’t just leave him! He will be alright, and will need answers when he awakens.”  
“He won't awaken.”   
I stare at him sharply, angry he would voice such mutinous thoughts. As I open my mouth to speak, he cuts me off.  
“Don’t argue with me girl. You are blinded by your hope and lack of experience. Those weren’t normal burn wounds. They tortured him, using some kind of poison, and will do the same to us if we stay. They are probably on their way here right now.”  
His tone is angry, ladened with years of pain from loss, and knowing he was right, I silenced myself. Instead, I study his shadowed face, wondering just what he had seen in his years. Wondering if he was reliving some terrible memory. I shift Eragon’s head from my lap and walk over to the old man. He looks up at me when I place a hand on his shoulder, and we share a look.  
A look of two people who, despite the difference in age and life experience, are kindred souls of sorrow and pain, who understand in that moment, what the other is feeling. I am sad to say it comforts me, that at least one person knows what I do and that they are here for me, and for once, not against me.  
I am not alone anymore.  
Despite having Eragon here for me these last few months, he can't possibly understand the pain I have been in. He started with no family. Sure he had his uncle, his cousin and his aunt, but it is different.  
I lost my mother, murdered coldly. My father hates me and is probably plotting revenge on me now. My sister is gods knows where with my niece/nephew/half brother/sister on the way, and I don’t even know if they are dead or alive.  
But he knows.  
The old man before me knows. He understands. I don’t know who he lost, or what he has seen, but I vow to myself, that no matter what, I will be there for him. I will fight to protect him from further harm, as he has for me recently. I will learn from and about this man who seems to know more about my past than I do.  
“You will both know the truth about your parents soon enough.”  
His lips draw up into a knowing smile, and we nod to each other.  
I sit back down next to Ery, and lean back, relaxing, and mentally preparing for the journey ahead.


	12. Words and Weapons

I stare at the plains as we ride in awkward silence. Eragon gave up on trying to make conversation hours ago when he realized neither Brom nor I were in the mood to speak. Saphira flew close to us, near the ground to avoid detection by any unnoticed passersby on the open plains of Palancar Valley. My eyes wandered, bored over the blank expanses covered in dead yellow grasses with the occasional patch of unmelted snow. In the far distance, the tips of mountains reached the base of the curved horizon. Slowly rees began sprouting around us, growing inside as into the thicker parts of the wood we traveled.  
We had only been at it for a day, but damn, I was sick of this.   
Everything had been quiet once we left, and we had one major conversation to discuss where we were going before everyone but a certain blonde gave up on speaking. We had set up camp, following Brom's directions, as he had done this before.  
The clearing we had set up camp in was small but large enough for Saphira to land. It was bisected by a large creek, which was shallow enough to wade across. another small expanse of grass stretched on the other side. The clearing was surrounded by tall trees, unhindered in their growth by humans, or any other creatures. I could see the beginnings of a sunset over their monstrous peaks.  
Once the site was set up, Brom turned and marched into the woods with a strong emotion on his face, which, when he came back, I found to be determination. Then I noticed his hands behind his back. He slowly brought them forward, and I blinked at what I saw there.   
Sticks. Not just any sticks. Three long, heavy, beating sticks.  
I flinch back, trying to avoid being noticed. Grow up. They won’t hurt you. Steeling my resolve, I wait to see what he will do with them. He tosses one to Ery and one to me, then speaks.  
“We are fighting against dangerous foes, it is important you know how to defend yourselves.”   
“But we already know how to fight!” Eragon sputters indignantly and I sigh knowing this is far from the truth. The only experience we have is backyard stick fighting, and even that we haven’t done for years. Brom seems to notice my hesitance and nods slightly to me.  
“She knows how to pick her fights already. I see, however, that you need to learn to do the same,” Brom states, getting into a stance.  
“Show me what you’ve got.”  
“Piece of cake.”  
They hefted the heavy sticks and circled each other. To Eragon’s surprise, and I will admit, mine as well, Brom moves swift and lithe on his feet, shifting across the leafy ground soundlessly. Eventually, they grew tired of this and Eragon lunged, swinging his stick wildly. The older man blocked it with ease, controlled power fending off the younger warrior’s attacks.   
After a particularly sloppy swing from Eragon, Brom sidesteps and smacks him to the ground with a harsh blow to the back.  
“First rule of combat: Never underestimate your opponent.” Ery rolled to his feet again and got into a steadier stance, a scowl on his face.  
“Are you trying to kill me?!”  
“No, but your enemies will. Which is why you need to be used to this and learn to defend yourself. Again!” Even if Eragon had the chance to respond before Brom swung again. He wouldn’t have, as Brom’s logic was undeniable.   
Brom slowed the exercise down and began teaching Eragon moves and patterns, constantly reminding him to move his feet. I sat down against Saphira's belly, dropping my staff, and we watched.  
He isn’t too bad at this.  
Yes, but he is arrogant, and that will get him killed. We watch Brom thwack Eragon on his head before flicking his stick to hit his hip as well. Saphira growled in response, then spoke.  
Neither of you will be hurt with me around.  
I smiled. Eragon and his family had been the only ones to ever truly care for me until a few months ago, but now I had my sister back. I had Eragon and Saphira. I had Brom. Even though I left behind almost everything I had ever known, I didn’t feel alone. I feel liberated.  
Those words, I decided, would be what pushed me forward. She would protect us, so I must fight.

The boys continued for a while before Brom called a stop to their match. Eragon was bruised, battered and exhausted. Brom however, looked happy and normal, if a little breathless. He turned to and motioned me over.  
I splashed across the creek, staff back in hand, and stood before him in the chilly evening air. He lifted his “sword” and nodded. We began.  
I quickly noticed how clumsy I was with the large stick for a sword. After Brom caught my side for the fourth time, he stopped and marched to the edge of the clearing again. From the thick of the woods, he drew another stick smaller, about the length of my forearm. He tossed that to me. I had to drop the larger stick to catch it.   
“Let's try this again. I have a feeling you’ll be a lot better with something smaller.” I suppose he is right, a smaller person, smaller weapon right?  
We began circling again, and I found it a lot easier to move with something I couldn’t trip over. For a change, I made the first move and slashed across his chest. To my surprise, he had a tougher time blocking this. Since my weapon was smaller, and I faster, there was far less opportunity for him to block, so he had to keep dancing back and dodging my blows. We had found my weapon style.  
I attacked and he blocked, and we continued, back and forth. Ducking and slashing, fighting and dodging. He landed plenty of hits on me, but each time, I would tighten my guard. After a hard slash at my shoulder, he called it quits and we sat down to eat.   
Our meal was a measly handful of berries from a shrub nearby and a few strips of dried meat. It was dampened by the fact that Eragon could not keep his damned mouth shut. He kept complaining of pains and aches.   
I got fed up.  
I grabbed his hand, and looked him in the eyes, smiling sweetly.  
“Eragon?” he hummed.  
“If you don’t stop complaining and eat, I'm going to chop your hand off so you actually have something to complain about.” Then I kissed his cheek and went back to eating, while Brom and Saphira chuckled in the background.  
That certainly shut him up.  
After we snuffed the flame out, we all settled down. Eragon moved my bedroll next to Saphira's belly and we lay next to each other, a foot between, holding hands. While we had nothing left, we were still bound by our honor to be responsible for our relations. Now was not the time to get tangled too deep in romance.  
But, as we watched the last light fade away, I knew it was too late for us.

The next few days of traveling were dreary, and I was getting tired of riding horseback. I couldn’t complain though. My mind traveled as we did, remembering far off memories, or imagining distant futures. Where were we going, and why? What would we accomplish, and what would we do after?   
I couldn’t answer any of these questions for myself, so I deigned to ask about it later.  
Our path took us to the edges of the Spine, just inside the woods as Saphira glides overhead. Often the only sound was her wings and the horse's hooves. We avoided travelers at all costs, but if we couldn’t, Saphira would soar into the clouds, nothing but a speck blending into the skies far above.  
After we passed through Therinsford, buying Ery new gloves and some supplies. We also stopped by the local blacksmith and bought two swords.  
Eragon got a hand and a half sword with a simple leather grip. It was long, but not long enough to drag when he walked with it at his hip. The crossguard was simple, and curved away from the wielder's hand, the pommel a simple cube. Mine was, of course, not a sword (I’m much too clumsy to wield one). It was a beautifully crafted dagger, about the length of my forearm, like the small stick I had practiced with. I believe Brom was only interested in the expensive thing because of the interesting carving on the blade. When I asked about it he said not to worry. The crossguard was a flat oval disc to protect my hand, and the pommel was a crafted metal, shaped like talons or claws, encased around a dark, dark purple swirled with a light lavender in the stone.  
“Charoite,” the smith said when I inquired about it. “It was ordered by a nobleman, but he died not long after the purchase. It somehow found its way back. The stone has special healing properties, as the old man over there seems to have picked up on. I can see why he’d want you to have it doll.”   
Other than that, it was uneventful, and we went under the guise of a father, son, and cousin traveling together. I snickered constantly because Eragon kept trying to hold my hand, but couldn’t if he wanted to keep the story up.   
“We have to come up with a different lie,” he told me once.   
I laughed and nodded.  
That night after training, we discussed our plans.  
“So what are we doing? I understand we had to get away, and I get that we have to go somewhere, but...” I stared at the two in front of me.  
“I have to avenge him. Garrow was the only family I had aside from Roran. He took care of me all my life, and I will not let his murder go unpunished. We will hunt those beasts... the Ra’zac, and make them pay.” To my right Brom sighed, and his brows furrowed deep over his eyes, shadowing them.   
“Revenge won’t make you feel any better.”  
“Yes, it will. It will allow Garrow to rest in peace, with the dead. It will help me rest easy knowing I changed something, and they can’t hurt anyone else.”  
I need to clear our name of his death. Roran will have no idea what happened. His mind’s voice was sad and distressed, like the emotions flowing through our mental link.   
“You do realize those things are older, smarter, darker and more magical beings than you, me and most other creatures in Alagaesia? And you, who are still learning how to wield a sword, with no training in the magic field at all, wants to fight them? Do you want to get killed?” Brom was at a normal volume when he started, but as his anger rose so did his voice. His voice was rough, and his eyes dark, angry.  
“You may not understand, but I can’t just let this go! He was like my father.”   
“And if you die?”  
“It’s not like it would matter much. My death wouldn’t mean much to anyone but you guys with Garrow gone.”   
“How could you say that?” I shout, furious. “You are my best friend. I gave up everything to stay with you, and to come on this journey. It wasn’t much, but my sister is out there, somewhere, with a child on the way.” Eragon’s brows rose at this, but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing not to interrupt. “I should be with her, taking care of her. But I’m not! I came with you to protect you, to be with you damn it! I am not going to let you throw your life away for revenge!” I say as I stand up. The other two get to their feet as well, and Saphira raises her head.   
“She is right. Not only that, but you have a duty. your dragon is the last female dragon. Have you ever wondered what happens to the other person in the bond when when one dies?”  
“No... What happens?” He asks, glancing over to Saphira.  
They die in most cases, but others just go insane. A rare few are able to regain themselves before it is too late, but live on in sadness, emptiness.  
He takes a moment for that to sink in, but Brom soon speaks.  
“Could you do that to Saphira? Or let her entire species die out because you needed revenge, but weren’t strong enough to live through it?”  
“No, I wouldn't,” he says reluctantly. “But I also don’t know what I should do other than go after the Ra’zac. I think we should track them down first, and then decide on a course of action. I am sure we will learn some things along the way that will be useful to us.”  
I am surprised by his thoughtful answer to a seemingly simple question. Brom allows the argument to rest, so I do as well. We settle down against our little trees in the forest outside of Therinsford. I watch the clouds drift over a crescent moon before my eyes drift closed.


	13. Saddles and Magic

“Saddle up kids, we have to move early, I have some things I want to do tonight, and we have a great distance to cover.”  
Eragon and I look at each other in confusion but say nothing. We will get answers to our unasked questions later.  
I hope.   
After a quick breakfast of a few strips of jerky, we followed orders and got moving. It took us about ten minutes to be on the road again. Our horses trotted along the now open expanse of land. The trees had faded away after an hour of walking, forcing Saphira to take to the clouds. By midday, I was utterly bored, and I could tell Ery was too.   
So I decided to make it interesting.   
Eragon’s horse was walking in front of mine a few paces, so I tapped Tarpin’s sides with my heels, moving him into a trot. When I reached Eragon’s side, I slapped his horses flank, causing him to race forward. Eragon spun to me in confusion, giving me a glare, only to watch me fly passed him.  
“You are so on!”   
And so the race began. I raced forward on the empty plains, and urged Tarpin forward, faster, faster until it felt like we were flying. The ground raced under me, blurring and hazy. I glanced back to see Eragon trying to keep up, but failing. My horse was a speed demon.  
I laughed, wholly and unrestricted for the first time since this whole mess began.   
And it felt incredible.  
I heard Eragon laugh as well, and at that moment knew I would not want to be anywhere else than here. Here, with my best friend, my, as I refer to him, mentor, and one of two surviving dragons. I might be the only ordinary person here, but I am okay with that. I belong here, truly, and this was the first time that has happened.   
The laughter continued for a few minutes and I pulled the reigns to allowed Tarpin to slow. I patted his neck as he slowed to a walk breathing heavily. Eragon caught up and later so did Brom, who had kicked his horse into a light trot. He looked stern, but I could see the amusement in his dark eyes.   
We continued along, light conversation floating through us, unlike most days. It was lovely to feel so jovial again. It reaffirmed the bond between everyone in the group. As we marched along, something came to my mind.  
“Hey, Brom, how did you fix the scars on my back? I just remembered.”  
“Ah yes. I was hoping you would forget that. Why don’t we make camp for a little lunch, and I can show you.”  
We stop for a while and Saphira flies back to rest with us. she drinks her fill from a nearby creek that snakes down the plains. Brom sets up a little fire pit and calls us over. He looks at the pile of sticks and speaks a lone word.  
“Brisingr,” he said, and the air around us shifted with some unseen force.  
Then the sticks were aflame.  
“How did you do that?” Eragon asked excitedly. I had to admit I was just as curious and excited about this strange new... occurrence as he was. Brom glanced between us.  
“When the dragons roamed our world, magicians were everywhere. The bonds the riders shared changed them, and they had magic in their blood. They were able to control it, manipulate it. They could complete incredible tasks, but only with the amount of energy they had, and the limits of their imaginations. They passed the magic down to their children and their children's children. It is all but gone now, but with you here, there is hope it could come back,” he said, a dreamy hope in his voice and eyes.  
“Here, take this,” he says. In Eragon's hand, he had placed a small stone. Eragon looked up at Brom in confusion.  
“Gather all of your strength, your energy, and focus on the stone. Imagine what your words will make it do. When you have it there and at your ready, say ‘stenr risa.’” Brom showed us an example at the rock rose steadily over his hand, hovering about six inches above it.  
I watched as Eragon’s face scrunched up in intense focus, trying his hardest to center his energy. then, he said in a commanding tone:  
“Stenr Risa!”  
Everyone in the camp felt it I'm sure, the shiver of the air when he spoke the words. We stared expectantly at the pebble, waiting for the flight we thought it would take.  
But it didn't.  
It sat still, defiantly unmoving, disobeying his order. He glared at the rock in exasperation. I would have laughed at his expression if he hadn't turned to me at that moment. Noting my amusement, he decided to challenge me.  
"As if you could do much better!"  
"Watch yourself. Upsetting your girl is not an easy thing to fix," stated the old magician sagely. I laugh in my head at the way he classified me.   
“She’s not my girl!”   
Everyone one silent.  
In that silence, I could feel an inferno of fury rising inside.  
“The hell do you mean by-”  
“I didn’t mean it like that! You know how much you mean to me. I just meant I don’t own you. You’re your own person.” My fury was replaced with a familiar sense of joy and contentment.   
The damned boy always knew what to say.  
“Hm. I didn’t think an idiot like you would be able to smooth that over! You have quite the way with words sometimes. Haha now if only you could show that amount of skill in training. Although... he could be on to something. would you like to give it a shot?” He asked, tossing me a pebble of my own. I stare at it for a few seconds, then nodded once slowly.  
I block out everything. The world ceased to exist, and time stopped. I reached within myself, delving into parts of my mind I had never seen. I felt every organ in my body, every pulsing vein, every breath. I found my energy, full of life, and thriving within me waiting to be accessed. I grasped hold of it, enjoying the feeling of being fully awake.  
“Stenr risa,” I whispered reopening eyes I hadn’t realized were closed. I refocused in the world as the rock in my hand drew the energy I had a hold of and shook a tiny bit. Then, just as wobbly, it rose from my hand and hovered in the air. I focused on it for as long as I could. I slowly let it down when I began to feel drained.  
I glanced around at the other three who were stunned in silence.  
Saphira looked smug, a dragonesk smirk on her scaly lips. You should never challenge a mighty female. She is sure to outdo you every time. Eragon looked shocked, and also a bit jealous of this new development. Brom was nodding as if I had confirmed a suspicion of his.   
“Nearly a full minute holding that stone up for a first try at magic. You, my dear, will be an incredible magician.” I stared at him for a moment when I remembered something.  
“I thought magicians were only supposed to be people who were riders, descendants of one, or elvish. How could I have this magic?” I ask between slightly labored breaths.  
“Maybe being around Saphira when she hatched and made the bond with Eragon may have affected you as well,” His words made sense, but still I had an inkling of doubt in my mind. I ignored it and accepted it, knowing I wouldn’t be getting any more answers from the mysterious old man.  
“Alright! What else do you have planned for us, old man?” I turned to Eragon and gave him a stern glance at the nickname he had used for Brom.  
“Remember those hides we nabbed from Gedric? Can you grab those?” I nod and move over to the large pelts which we had previously removed from the horses. We had been traveling with them under the saddles as they were too large to put in the saddlebags. After gathering the three, I moved back over to them.   
“Remember the first flight you took with Saphira? The chaffing in your legs is still healing, even now.” Eragon nods at the painful memory and motions for Brom to continue. “I am going to teach you how to make comfortable riding saddles. Dragon scales are harsh and unforgiving and will tear through your skin during the flight. The mighty riders of the past had luxury saddles made by the elves, but due to our situation, this will have to do.”  
He cut one hide into thick strips, and the others into shapes that made sense to only the eldest of our quartet, as Saphira was now watching in interest. He explained that these would be used in a pattern to put together the saddle.  
“Much like a sewing pattern, correct?” Brom nodded. I knew I needed to pay extra attention because I was the only one of us younger kids who have any experience, thus it made the most sense to me.  
Soon, as he began arranging it I began catching on and helped sew it up through holes he had tapped into it with my dagger. The finished product was alright, if not a little sloppy. It didn’t matter as long as it held together though. We lifted it onto Saphira’s back as she knelt for us. Brom nudged Eragon forward and he glanced back.  
“Try it out, it’s your destiny and yours alone to ride the skies with her. She chose you, not any of us.”  
Sometimes I wish I had picked you. She whispered into my mind causing me to snicker. Eragon shrugged his shoulders and hopped on, and the moment he was secure, Saphira threw her body into the air. Her magnificent wings flapped mightily, sending a gush of wind. I laughed and ran to my horse. I threw his saddle on and swung up.  
“Catch up with us ok?” Brom nodded and smiled as he saw the freedom in my eyes at the sight of the last rider soaring overhead.   
I released my hair from its neat braid and spurred the horse forward to chase the dragon. He seemed put off by her, as we had only been traveling a short time, but eventually followed my commands and soon we were flying too.  
The wind rushed through my hair, whipping it in every direction. It was in my eyes, mouth, and despite that, I laughed. This was better than our race earlier. This was real freedom, watching the boy, nay, man I love flying above on such a fearsome creature. To know I would be fighting along his side for what we know is right. To finally have escaped the prison I had lived in for all of my life.  
I was finally free.


	14. Almost

“Saddle up kids, we have to move early, I have some things I want to do tonight, and we have a great distance to cover.”  
Eragon and I look at each other in confusion but say nothing. We will get answers to our unasked questions later.  
I hope.   
After a quick breakfast of a few strips of jerky, we followed orders and got moving. It took us about ten minutes to be on the road again. Our horses trotted along the now open expanse of land. The trees had faded away after an hour of walking, forcing Saphira to take to the clouds. By midday, I was utterly bored, and I could tell Ery was too.   
So I decided to make it interesting.   
Eragon’s horse was walking in front of mine a few paces, so I tapped Tarpin’s sides with my heels, moving him into a trot. When I reached Eragon’s side, I slapped his horses flank, causing him to race forward. Eragon spun to me in confusion, giving me a glare, only to watch me fly passed him.  
“You are so on!”   
And so the race began. I raced forward on the empty plains, and urged Tarpin forward, faster, faster until it felt like we were flying. The ground raced under me, blurring and hazy. I glanced back to see Eragon trying to keep up, but failing. My horse was a speed demon.  
I laughed, wholly and unrestricted for the first time since this whole mess began.   
And it felt incredible.  
I heard Eragon laugh as well, and at that moment knew I would not want to be anywhere else than here. Here, with my best friend, my, as I refer to him, mentor, and one of two surviving dragons. I might be the only ordinary person here, but I am okay with that. I belong here, truly, and this was the first time that has happened.   
The laughter continued for a few minutes and I pulled the reigns to allowed Tarpin to slow. I patted his neck as he slowed to a walk breathing heavily. Eragon caught up and later so did Brom, who had kicked his horse into a light trot. He looked stern, but I could see the amusement in his dark eyes.   
We continued along, light conversation floating through us, unlike most days. It was lovely to feel so jovial again. It reaffirmed the bond between everyone in the group. As we marched along, something came to my mind.  
“Hey, Brom, how did you fix the scars on my back? I just remembered.”  
“Ah yes. I was hoping you would forget that. Why don’t we make camp for a little lunch, and I can show you.”  
We stop for a while and Saphira flies back to rest with us. she drinks her fill from a nearby creek that snakes down the plains. Brom sets up a little fire pit and calls us over. He looks at the pile of sticks and speaks a lone word.  
“Brisingr,” he said, and the air around us shifted with some unseen force.  
Then the sticks were aflame.  
“How did you do that?” Eragon asked excitedly. I had to admit I was just as curious and excited about this strange new... occurrence as he was. Brom glanced between us.  
“When the dragons roamed our world, magicians were everywhere. The bonds the riders shared changed them, and they had magic in their blood. They were able to control it, manipulate it. They could complete incredible tasks, but only with the amount of energy they had, and the limits of their imaginations. They passed the magic down to their children and their children's children. It is all but gone now, but with you here, there is hope it could come back,” he said, a dreamy hope in his voice and eyes.  
“Here, take this,” he says. In Eragon's hand, he had placed a small stone. Eragon looked up at Brom in confusion.  
“Gather all of your strength, your energy, and focus on the stone. Imagine what your words will make it do. When you have it there and at your ready, say ‘stenr risa.’” Brom showed us an example at the rock rose steadily over his hand, hovering about six inches above it.  
I watched as Eragon’s face scrunched up in intense focus, trying his hardest to center his energy. then, he said in a commanding tone:  
“Stenr Risa!”  
Everyone in the camp felt it I'm sure, the shiver of the air when he spoke the words. We stared expectantly at the pebble, waiting for the flight we thought it would take.  
But it didn't.  
It sat still, defiantly unmoving, disobeying his order. He glared at the rock in exasperation. I would have laughed at his expression if he hadn't turned to me at that moment. Noting my amusement, he decided to challenge me.  
"As if you could do much better!"  
"Watch yourself. Upsetting your girl is not an easy thing to fix," stated the old magician sagely. I laugh in my head at the way he classified me.   
“She’s not my girl!”   
Everyone one silent.  
In that silence, I could feel an inferno of fury rising inside.  
“The hell do you mean by-”  
“I didn’t mean it like that! You know how much you mean to me. I just meant I don’t own you. You’re your own person.” My fury was replaced with a familiar sense of joy and contentment.   
The damned boy always knew what to say.  
“Hm. I didn’t think an idiot like you would be able to smooth that over! You have quite the way with words sometimes. Haha now if only you could show that amount of skill in training. Although... he could be on to something. would you like to give it a shot?” He asked, tossing me a pebble of my own. I stare at it for a few seconds, then nodded once slowly.  
I block out everything. The world ceased to exist, and time stopped. I reached within myself, delving into parts of my mind I had never seen. I felt every organ in my body, every pulsing vein, every breath. I found my energy, full of life, and thriving within me waiting to be accessed. I grasped hold of it, enjoying the feeling of being fully awake.  
“Stenr risa,” I whispered reopening eyes I hadn’t realized were closed. I refocused in the world as the rock in my hand drew the energy I had a hold of and shook a tiny bit. Then, just as wobbly, it rose from my hand and hovered in the air. I focused on it for as long as I could. I slowly let it down when I began to feel drained.  
I glanced around at the other three who were stunned in silence.  
Saphira looked smug, a dragonesk smirk on her scaly lips. You should never challenge a mighty female. She is sure to outdo you every time. Eragon looked shocked, and also a bit jealous of this new development. Brom was nodding as if I had confirmed a suspicion of his.   
“Nearly a full minute holding that stone up for a first try at magic. You, my dear, will be an incredible magician.” I stared at him for a moment when I remembered something.  
“I thought magicians were only supposed to be people who were riders, descendants of one, or elvish. How could I have this magic?” I ask between slightly labored breaths.  
“Maybe being around Saphira when she hatched and made the bond with Eragon may have affected you as well,” His words made sense, but still I had an inkling of doubt in my mind. I ignored it and accepted it, knowing I wouldn’t be getting any more answers from the mysterious old man.  
“Alright! What else do you have planned for us, old man?” I turned to Eragon and gave him a stern glance at the nickname he had used for Brom.  
“Remember those hides we nabbed from Gedric? Can you grab those?” I nod and move over to the large pelts which we had previously removed from the horses. We had been traveling with them under the saddles as they were too large to put in the saddlebags. After gathering the three, I moved back over to them.   
“Remember the first flight you took with Saphira? The chaffing in your legs is still healing, even now.” Eragon nods at the painful memory and motions for Brom to continue. “I am going to teach you how to make comfortable riding saddles. Dragon scales are harsh and unforgiving and will tear through your skin during the flight. The mighty riders of the past had luxury saddles made by the elves, but due to our situation, this will have to do.”  
He cut one hide into thick strips, and the others into shapes that made sense to only the eldest of our quartet, as Saphira was now watching in interest. He explained that these would be used in a pattern to put together the saddle.  
“Much like a sewing pattern, correct?” Brom nodded. I knew I needed to pay extra attention because I was the only one of us younger kids who have any experience, thus it made the most sense to me.  
Soon, as he began arranging it I began catching on and helped sew it up through holes he had tapped into it with my dagger. The finished product was alright, if not a little sloppy. It didn’t matter as long as it held together though. We lifted it onto Saphira’s back as she knelt for us. Brom nudged Eragon forward and he glanced back.  
“Try it out, it’s your destiny and yours alone to ride the skies with her. She chose you, not any of us.”  
Sometimes I wish I had picked you. She whispered into my mind causing me to snicker. Eragon shrugged his shoulders and hopped on, and the moment he was secure, Saphira threw her body into the air. Her magnificent wings flapped mightily, sending a gush of wind. I laughed and ran to my horse. I threw his saddle on and swung up.  
“Catch up with us ok?” Brom nodded and smiled as he saw the freedom in my eyes at the sight of the last rider soaring overhead.   
I released my hair from its neat braid and spurred the horse forward to chase the dragon. He seemed put off by her, as we had only been traveling a short time, but eventually followed my commands and soon we were flying too.  
The wind rushed through my hair, whipping it in every direction. It was in my eyes, mouth, and despite that, I laughed. This was better than our race earlier. This was real freedom, watching the boy, nay, man I love flying above on such a fearsome creature. To know I would be fighting along his side for what we know is right. To finally have escaped the prison I had lived in for all of my life.  
I was finally free.


	15. Dreams or Memories

Eragon’s POV

I blinked and opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room. My body doesn’t respond to my command for it to move, not even a head turn. I settled for viewing what was in front of me. The room, a cell, I now realized, was empty. It was dark, with no windows and seemingly no light. As my eyes adjusted I could see a cot in the corner, and splashes of wet ground, still drying but obviously pretty old. I sat for a few moments contemplating what it could mean.  
Then, suddenly, as if sensing my thoughts, the door, invisible when closed, burst open shedding light on a figure, which was thrown in onto the floor. The tiny form was clothed in a ragged leather and black cloth ensemble, seeming to not even be meant for clothes. Long black hair flew around the head as the person landed harshly, unable to help itself, for its hands and legs are bound.   
After a few moments lying there, its captors making crude jokes and laughs at the door, it moved. Its hands maneuvered under it, and the pale bare arms revealed bruises and cuts and burns, more horrible than I’d ever seen. It pushed up with lean muscles and into a sitting position. The hair fell away, revealing an angular face, marred in its current state. Blood and grime from the floor had stayed from her fall, a harsh cut above her eyebrow bled profusely into her eyes, a stark contrast to their vibrant emerald. Her angular face was set in a fierce, angry scowl, and if looks could kill, the men at the door would've fallen over dead by now. Her eye shape actually made her look almost feline in her beauty.  
The door closed again leaving us in shadows of this prison. As she stared at the door, I wondered what she could've done to get here. Her hand dragged the other to push her hair behind an ear, a pointed ear.  
She’s an elf!  
She pushed herself off and looked to me, unsteady on her unhealthily small limbs, malnourished and beat up. I was surprised not only by her poor state, but how her gaze locked on mine.   
“You must help me. I won’t last much longer.”

I woke with a start that morning and quickly got started getting ready as to deter thoughts of the strange dream.  
We were moving swiftly over the land, pushing the horses to our limits, having Saphira practice flying as fast as she could and swiftly looping around to do it again, and trying all kinds of flight maneuvers to test her agility when we could. for now I remained with the others on the ground because it would be suspicious for an old man and young woman to be traveling alone together. Along the way we discussed the fine lines of many things like magic, strategy and the ancient language. Whenever he could, he would tell us words in the ancient language.  
I glanced over at Elaina, who had decided to cut all of her shirts into half shirts and just keep her stomach wrapped in bandages the whole time. We had bought a few new rolls of bandages that she has been interchanging and washing over her wound every now and then. Brom had decided to let it heal on its own, though it would leave a nasty scar. Elaina then had commented that it wasn’t like she didn’t have any scars already. Everyone had gone silent and refused to say anything. Her breathing was still troubled.   
It worked well with her full form though, because her pants accentuated her hips and puffed out loosely around her calves, where they were tied off tightly to avoid being frayed, or caught on pieces of brush. Their brown only a few shades darker than her skin made the blue of her shirt and the warm brown of her eyes stand out dramatically.  
I turned over to Brom, tearing my eyes from her form.  
“So Brom, now that we kinda know what the stuff is about, where does magic come from? I have seen you use it, and I have seen Elaina use it, and I have used it... But why? Why doesn’t everybody use it?”  
“Why doesn’t everybody just become a dragon rider and live happily ever after? Not everyone can. Every Rider in history has had the ability because their dragons affect their bodies and minds in a way we still do not fully understand an-”  
“So that means Galbatorix can use magic!”  
“Of course. That’s what makes him so powerful, why nobody has been able to defeat him. While the elves can use magic, They have nowhere near the amount of control or sheer power that a rider has. It is for that reason they have not come out of hiding. They fear their races total annihilation, what Galbatorix did to the dragons he would do to them. They are a threat to his reign, so he would not hesitate to bring an end to them. I do not blame their hesitance,” he sighed but looked up at me from his horse. “I think once we get word to them from the Varden though, their silence might change. Everything might change...And if things go the way I think they will, you need to be ready. I have a new thing I want to try with the three of you today as it will be undoubtedly an important thing for you to know.”  
Elaina and I shared concerned glances, then looked back at Brom.  
“I am going to touch your minds, you have to try to keep me out. Focus so intently on something I cannot access any part of your mind except what you are focused on.”  
Suddenly there was pressure on my mind, and he was flipping through memories, backwards in time. He was getting closer to the memory of the Nights Elaina spent at my house before all of this had happened. Images that I tried to hold onto fluttered by but were quickly pushed back by the probing mind. I had to stop him, so I threw up the most vibrant, colorful image I could.   
It was when we were thirteen, Roran, Elaina and I had escaped from work in the fields and were playing out in the woods at a clearing with a small creek. They had splashed into the water and were having at each other sending flecks of water everywhere, the tiny droplets catching the last rays of sun in mid air. Autumn leaves danced as they fell toward the ground, a beautiful array of greens, yellows, oranges and reds. I had never seen them smile so brightly.  
The probe nudged at it trying to get past, but he was stopped he pushed harder, but I held my ground. He pushed harder and harder but I held strong. We had stopped moving forward, focusing on using our minds. Soon enough, ,feeling exhausted, I dropped the image and welcomed him. Thankfully he let go of his grip on my mind, but whispered to me still, that was quite good for a first try. What a beautiful image to use as well.  
He turned to Elaina and they stared intently on each other for a few minutes. Elaina’s face was impassive at first, but soon enough her face scrunched in pain and anger. She gave a growl and her face became fierce as Brom’s face became one of shock.  
“Elaina...”  
“I know,” she said, turning her head to the side. I glanced between them and was completely confused at the look in Brom’s eyes. He looked so sad and piteous, whilst Elaina had closed herself off, eyes blank. I knew that look.  
“I’m sorry. I should have known not to push too far. Just... I am so sorry, I didn-”  
“Just leave it.”   
She sat in silence and her horse dredged on until she stopped him. Saphira suddenly swooped down and landed next to her, and Elaina stood and leapt from the horse's saddle to hers. Then they were off. I watched Saphira dart like an arrow ahead of us, and a second after they had lifted off the ground something wet hit my face. I looked into the sky, but no clouds were there. Touching the wet spot the tear on my cheek, I wondered what had made her so upset.   
“Brom, what did you see?”  
“There are secrets in her mind yet untold. Don’t push her for answers Eragon. Let her be.”  
I knew better by now than to argue with Brom, or mess with Elaina when she got like this.  
But what made her that way?

Elaina’s POV

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as we flew, not holding on long as the chilling air whipped them away to the ground below. The images of my mother bloodied and disembodied, blue lipped from the death she had greeted to protect me... It was my fault, not an animal. My monster of a father had attacked her when she defended me and it had gone to far. He had killed her, and for cover, dragged her up into the creek to make it look like an accident.  
No, it wasn’t your fault. It was your coward father. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent it, Brom had whispered to me in my mind when he saw that train of thought, but I had quickly pushed him out from seeing anymore thoughts or memories, unknowingly doing what he had wanted in the first place.   
I closed my eyes and stopped shutting the memory out. 

“Mama look what Ery gave me! He called it a necklace! He made it out of beads and fabric flowers from the traders!” I smiled brilliantly up at her, her brown eyes shining like diamonds. The bruise on her cheek did nothing to mar the beauty of her smile, dimpled, full cheeks puffing like rounded full plums. She engulfed me in a hug, her skin rough by the scars on her arms, which I knew marred more than them alone.   
“Little Nina, it's so beautiful! would you like me to help you put it on?” I nod, finding the clasp too hard to figure out for myself. Eragon had said he asked Horts and his sons for help making it. I turned around, and she knelt to my height by the front door where I had just barged into the house. The pleasant aroma of our soup cooking in the kitchen filled my nose as I breathed deeply in contentment. When her hands dropped to my shoulders, I turned.  
“How do I look?”   
“Like a princess,” she said. I laughed then, still smiling, dragged her over to the bench in our living room.   
“Momma, will you do my hair? I want to look like you! Your hair is so beautiful!” Her brown hair, streaked with white from her age, and the stress of our everyday lives. Still, it shown in the light, and was soft enough to make all of the other women of the village jealous of it. She had it braided into a loose, puffy braid, which trailed down from the crown of her head to wrap around to her other shoulder, dropping over the curve of her hips, accentuating her slim, willowy form.   
She sat with me and told me stories of when she was a girl, her family, and her sister, who I sadly would probably never meet. As her fingers combed through my hair, soothing me, they wove, in and out, creating the same beautiful plait she herself wore.  
“Why can’t I meet her mother?”  
“I moved away when I was young. I was adventurous, and it cost me much...” She trailed off in sadness, and she sounded near tears when she spoke next, her fingers reaching the end of my long hair. “My dear sister, how I miss her. She was so beautiful even for one so young. I had hoped to watch her grow up much like my parents watched me. She was only six years younger, but I miss her dearly. Now I do not know if she would even want me back.”  
I turned around swiftly and gave her the most severe look I could muster to counter her tears.  
“Of course she would want you back momma! She is your sister. If she loves you enough she would take you back.” The sound of footsteps made us both pause and she leaned forward to block papa’s view of me. A shiver ran through my body, and as he sneered I leaned in closer to my mother’s comforting form. Over her shoulder, I could see his sneering, unshaven face.  
“Why would anyone want a sniveling whore like you?” I could feel my fear turning to anger as he began a tirade about my mother. His words were angry and false and the fury rising in my mind was making me see red. “I bet that little wimp behind you isn't even mine with all of the men you sleep with. Tell me, whos is she? Horst? Maybe that Brom? Or maybe Garrow came here and-”He was cut off as I pinched his knee as hard as I could and began yelling.  
“Leave her alone! You know none of that is true! You're just a big bully!” His hand reached out and a sharp pain agonized my cheek before my mother dragged me behind her again and slapped him back. There was a terse silence where what she did began to dawn on her face, but I could only tell because her eyes widened. I glanced at my father to see him red in the face, eyes alight with fire.  
He lunged for her so suddenly I didn’t see it happen, only heard the crash of the aftermath. Papa’s hand crushed her throat as he held her to the ground, and dragged a knife he keeps in his belt down her neck, chest, shoulders. He plunged it thrice into her side, and her screams echoed eternally through my head. I fell to my knees and wept, closing my eyes and Sarah came into the room. Her eyes swept over the happenings and landed on me, but I did not know. I only looked up when the noise had stopped. But not for that no. Something wet was creeping through the knees of my pants. I looked down to them.  
The blood, fresh and still flowing from my mother's lifeless body as my father continued to beat her, had flowed across the floor to me and seeped through my clothes.  
My ears had stopped working and my wails went unheard as my sister too fell to the ground and wept until our father told us to never speak of this and carried her out to the river.  
I watched through holes in our walls as her body drifted through the waters, icy and frigid in the cold of spring, and I could almost swear her mouth twitched into a smile, even in death remaining radiant.   
Soon enough my vision was gone with tears clouding it too much for me to make out shapes and colors and I slept in my sister's arms as she wept. We spent years lamenting the loss of the only sanity we had in our world of sorrow and depression.   
Her beautiful smile would never again greet me in the morning.  
Her brown eyes would never sparkle at the sight of me.  
Her laugh would never tinkle past my ears at my graceless stumbles.  
She was gone.  
Forever.

We flew for hours as my sobs continued, many miles ahead of the men. Saphira’s gentle hums whistled passed me on the wind every now and then as she glided forward. My tears froze to my cheeks as the chill of the altitude reached them, but I payed them no mind, only leaning further into the saddle on the dragoness back. The ride was smooth but did nothing to still my heavy beating heart.  
Saphira told me of old happy memories of us a few months ago, frolicing in the woods, or her first catch, or when we scared Ery by running away for a few hours on a hunting trip. They too did little to ease my heavy heart, the memory still drifting at the back of my mind. Something about it wasn't right... it kept making me thing of Brom and Sara’s cryptic words. What did he mean about my parents? I knew who they were. An abusive drunk and a kind, beautiful, dead woman. And Sara’s words... where to start... They were familiar, and I had no idea what they meant or how I knew them.  
The dragoness landed in a small alcove of trees,slowly and gently. We were both very tired, albeit in different ways. I stay laying on her back as she settled, until she nudged me.  
Dear you have to get down.   
No  
She lifted me up instead by the collar of my shirt, and dragged me off, setting me gently by her side. I snuggled in close, despite being frustrated at being forced to move. Her long neck snaked around so her head was resting beside me and she put a wing over us.   
Go to sleep, little one, you've had a long day. We will go find the boys later.


	16. Fading

The next few days were long. We traveled quite a distance, and learned many things. we lived for the moment, and hunted for our own food. We trained with our sword and dagger, fighting and working until we were exhausted. After, Brom would teach us more words in the ancient language, and as we rode during the day, we practice our magic, our endurance. Also, Eragon practiced many, many flight maneuvers, ones that Brom thought up on the spot.   
Eragon’s skill with magic certainly progressed much faster than mine, but that is not to say that I too didn’t gain skill.   
By the end of the week, Eragon could keep three small stones hovering in the air for a good hour. I could only do two, but from what Brom says of human magicians, even that was impressive. However, whilst Eragon progressed much quicker in matters of the mind, my skill and advancement far surpassed his in physical matters. Maybe it was the years of ‘sparring,’ or trying to dodge my father's angry fists, but I was quite quick on my feet and after the first few beatings from Brom to learn technique he put us up against each other. Let’s put it like this. . .   
I annihilated Eragon.   
I moved faster, was less clumsy, and more sure in my attacks.  
We still spar together, but often once Ery gets too tired to continue, Brom pushes me. Urges my skills to grow more and more with the unfamiliar dagger. He knew how resolved I was to be able to protect the boy, the last hope for the world. He means everything to me, and I know I might not be always able to protect him, but I could sure as hell try. Many people would think it’s wrong for the girl to protect the guy, but Eragon can use all the help he can get.   
Now we were nearing Teirm, having decided against Dras Leona due to the dangers, and rumor of the king’s fast approaching trip there. It wasn’t worth the risks. We had stuck close to the mountains and eventually cut across them, and were once again emerging into the foothills at this point in time, sticking close to the Toark River.   
When at a distance to nearby civilizations, Saphira flew alongside us, splashing in the river, betraying the youth she still was. She often pretended to be tougher, more mature, in ways she was, but she was also still young. As Eragon and I are. We too get into trouble with Brom sometimes in town for stupid things we do. As we got closer, the ground became more moist and mossy, and a thick fog rolled through the air.  
Now however, we are all starkly silent, just cresting a hill overlooking the great city, and the ocean below as light spills over the horizon where the sun is sinking behind the blue water. The sight was magnificent and imposing, and I glanced to the side at my male counterparts. One seemed indifferent, as I knew he had seen this sight before, but the other, younger man had his mouth agape and eyes wide open as he stared in awe. It was certainly amusing, but the striking sight before us could elicit awe from anyone who had not beheld a large city such as this beforehand. Or maybe the large body of water beyond was the most mesmerizing... I smiled at his wondrous face, his emotions always so open to the world.  
He will one day get himself into trouble with it. Saphira whispered into my mind. I could not deny this truth and instead chose to remain silent. I turned to continue staring out at the city. Now Saphira rested in a clearing behind the hill. The river ran nearby and she was content to take a good rest after the long travel. She knew more trouble would come, as we all did, and wanted to rest for as long as possible. Time like this would be precious to us for the coming months. We decided to rest along with her tonight, the last time we would be able, and spent the night only resting. No sparring, no hunting. No stressing. Just resting for a while before life gets crazy again. Because it sure as hell will.  
The night passed in silence, sitting (in Eragon and I’s case, snuggling) by the fire eating a soup I had made of what vegetables we had left and a rabbit that had unluckily wandered into our camp. The peaceable silence was relaxing, and I felt my eyes drifting, my heart rate slowing. Eragon shifted beside me putting an arm around my shoulder.  
I flinched, but relaxed at the contact.   
He was frowning when I looked up at him, but he didn’t say anything. I knew it bothered him when I did things like that, but it's instinct. Brom noticed the looks we had on our faces.  
“You know she can’t help it.”  
“I’m not mad at her at all. I’m mad at the guy who messed up something so beautiful. You don’t deserve any of the things he did to you.”  
“It’s alright Eragon. It can’t be helped.”  
“She is right Eragon. The past is gone, and we must move on. Look at it this way: The fact that she is always aware of her surroundings and reacting to them can save her from incidents on a battlefield. She will probably react faster than most. While it’s tragic how she came to this state, we must take any advantage we can against our enemies.”  
He huffed grumpily and kissed my forehead, then stood and lay against Saphira’s stomach. I stared into the fire for a while as Brom shifted to go to sleep.  
“One last thing. When we get into the city, we will assume alias. I’m Neal, Eragon is my nephew, Evan, and you, his girlfriend, Elise.”   
Long after the other’s snores filled the air, sleep refused to overcome me, and I decided to simply stay up and keep watch. I reveled in the still of the night, so quiet in comparison to home. No crashes, screams, bottles breaking or thumps of hits landing. It was almost unsettling if it weren’t for the peace of the opposition. I huddled up closer to the dying embers, soaking in their warmth and hummed a song from a memory. It was so distant, blurred. Even the face and soft voice of the woman I sang it for were beginning to fade. The song I wrote, burned in my mind, but my own voice faded, along with the voice that sometimes sang along.   
It brought tears to my eyes. Hopefully singing the song would bring something back.

Four years old with my back to the door  
All I could hear was the family war  
Your selfish hands always expecting more  
Am I your child or just a charity ward?

You have a hollowed out heart  
But it's heavy in your chest  
I try so hard to fight it but it's hopeless  
Hopeless, you're hopeless

Oh, father, please, father  
I'd love to leave you alone  
But I can't let you go  
Oh, father, please, father  
Put the bottle down  
For the love of a daughter  
Oh

It's been five years since we've spoken last  
And you can't take back  
What we never had  
Oh, I can be manipulated  
Only so many times,  
Before even "I love you"  
Starts to sound like a lie

You have a hollowed out heart  
But it's heavy in your chest  
I try so hard to fight it but it's hopeless  
Hopeless, you're hopeless

Oh, father, please, father  
I'd love to leave you alone  
But I can't let you go  
Oh, father, please, father  
Put the bottle down  
For the love of a daughter

Don't you remember I'm your baby girl?  
How could you push me out of your world,  
Lied to your flesh and your blood,  
Put your hands on the ones that you swore you loved?  
Don't you remember I'm your baby girl?  
How could you throw me right out of your world?  
So young when the pain had begun  
Now forever afraid of being loved

Oh, father, please, father  
I'd love to leave you alone  
But I can't let you go  
Oh, father, please, father

Oh, father, please, father  
Put the bottle down  
For the love of a daughter  
For the love of a daughter  
(For the love of a Daughter by Demi Lovato, Acoustic)

I continued to stare in silence into the flames trying to piece back together the face of the woman I should never forget, and found it harder and harder to do. I could remember bits and pieces, a smile here, a look of love in her eyes after I did something new. Never a full face though. Always fragmented.   
I began hyperventilating at the thought of having truly forgotten my mother.  
Calm down, maybe it’s just that you’re exhausted. Yeah. A couple of hours of rest on your way into the city and everything will come back.  
I stayed up the rest of the night still disturbed, and trying to remind myself of things about her. Long, brown wavy hair like mine. Slim build, very willowy. A soft voice, brilliant smile, even through the tears and bruises around it, telling me it would be okay. Brown eyes, and pale skin. Something about those eyes, even whilst beautiful on her, had never truly fit her...

Eragon’s POV

She was silent. Pale.  
We all spent the morning that way, noticing her somber mood the moment each of us had woken up. Despite the pale shade, her eyes were sunken, dark circles rimming them. She looked exhausted, I could tell by her movements and the sighs between tasks. I wondered if she had slept at all last night.  
I already knew the answer.   
Once everything was packed I saw her walk to her horse, and as she put her foot in the stirrup, I helped lift her, not wanting her to strain herself anymore. She tries to hide it, but Brom and I have both noticed how her breathing had never completely healed, and she still was wrapping her wounds from Yazuac. It concerned both of us and it had been an unspoken agreement to have her seen by a doctor while in Teirm. Surely all of this stress was not doing her any favors.  
She remained silent and nodded in thanks, before she leans forward against the horse’s neck, and closes her eyes, once again sighing.  
“Get some sleep Nina, I will wake you when we enter the city.”  
Again a nod. She was already drifting.   
I smiled, a sad sort of smile. I knew the reasons for such lost sleep, I had never been a heavy sleeper. I heard the songs she sang at night. I grabbed her horses lead, mounted my horse and we were off. I waved to Saphira. I would come back to see her tomorrow. Right before I turned around, she blew little puffs of smoke from her nose smugly. I blinked in surprise.  
“Brom, should Saphira be able to do that right now?”  
“Given her age, not really, but I believe under the circumstances and amount of exercise she is getting, it may be triggering premature growth cycles, as to accommodate for the stressful situations she finds herself in; It is a type of defense mechanism.”  
I nod. There are many things I wanted to ask, but I knew it was best to remain quiet, especially as we got closer and closer to the main road leading to Teirm. The tall, white all stood strong and stark against the dark grey sky, vigilant and intimidating the city’s visitors and residents.The gates were flanked by four guards on each side, and people flowed through slowly, trickling in and dispersing throughout the city. As we approached, I glanced over at Elaina. Surely the bustle of the city would wake her, no need for me to bother her.  
I was wrong though.   
Even after we passed through the gates, earning quizzical glances from the guards, probably thinking us kidnappers, she remained asleep. Voices and shouts filled the air, animals wailing their pleas, and young children playing in the slums of the lower ring did not wake her. Well she needed the rest. Only when Brom decided to stop in a tavern and ask around for a friend in the city did I wake her.  
I did so by kissing her cheek.  
“What,” she snapped groggily, but smiled slightly at the gesture.  
“You need to wake up, we are stopping at a tavern. Come on, I will buy you breakfast.” She nods and climbs down, but stumbles. I wrap my arm around her waist, chuckling, and guide her inside to the bar. She plopped heavily into the seat beside Brom and I seated myself on her other side, already noticing some of the interested glances from the other bar occupants. It made me uncomfortable and I glared at each one until they looked away. I was just grateful that Elaina seemed oblivious to it.  
The mood she was in, she would probably get into a fight with some of them...  
“We will take two ales and a water, sir. and also whatever warm food you’d serve to weary travelers.” Brom ordered for us, and I smiled at the way the girl between us brightened at the mention of food. I shook my head and took a sip of the ale sat in front of me. Then, noticing the sour look on Elaina’s face at her drink, chuckled loudly.  
“What if I don't want water?”  
“You’re gonna have to suck it up, it’s too young for someone your age to be drinking,” Brom stated.  
“He’s younger than me damnit!”  
“Yeah, but you’re you, and he’s him.”  
“That’s not even a valid reason!”  
“Okay, he’s been up longer than you.”  
She groaned and slammed her head on the counter. I watched her arms slowly lift, slide her glass towards me, then drag mine back, all without looking up. Then in one movement, she sat up and drank the whole glass in one gulp. I was impressed.  
Apparently so was the bartender.  
“This one’s on me miss.”  
“Thanks. We’ve come quite a distance,” she stated taking the new glass, and drinking it much slower than the first.  
“Where you from?”  
“Kuasta,” she says, surprising me and Brom.  
Be careful what we say here, I don’t want to get into too much trouble while we are in the city. Brom’s mental voice was normal volume, but in no way startled our female companion as she continued talking. She nodded slightly in response. Once the food arrived, effectively silencing her, Brom spoke.  
“So, have you ever heard of a man in town named Jeod Longshanks?   
“Nah, but I have a buddy who knows him. His shop is on the other side of town though, so you’re in for quite a walk.” I tuned out and once we finished our meal we left, all of us fully awake now.  
I figured now was the perfect time to spend being as normal as I could with Nina.


	17. Ebrithl

Elaina’s POV  
Eragon noticed the same thing I had, about the pattern of the roofs, which grew taller and more intricately designed closer to the center of the city, and decided to ask Brom about it.

“Ah yes, the roofs. You see how they increase in size as it nears the castle?” We nod. “That is so the archers can shoot freely without worrying about friendly fire. It is how most cities are built; this setup provides protection, and is quite strategic.”

And so the silence began.

We wandered around the city for hours, stopping here and there as Brom searched for his contacts, and the friend we would be staying with. Many of the places we visited were new and interesting, and it was hard to understand why none of these neat shops could be found in Carvahall. The baubles in shops of delicate glass and metal, others intricate lace, some beautiful, gleaming jewelry fascinated me. Shirts and dresses and pants in all shapes, sizes and colors filled clothing shops. Some articles were so small, they could hardly be decent to wear in public.

The people here were just as strange as the items, if not more so. At home, everyone smiled at, and acknowledged each other. We all knew of and cared about the well-being of people around us. We helped each other. Not here though. People littered the sides of streets and alleys, scrounging for food. Yet there were still more disturbing things than that. 

Such as the leering gazes of men on the streets. 

I noticed it when we were moving from a covered market place to an open road. In an alley between the streets, one man stopped his search for sustenance, and gazed upon me hungrily as though I myself could provide something for him that the trash wouldn’t. The scruffy man’s eyes ravaged my body, seeming to see something different than what was on display. I became more conscious of the amount of skin I had showing and the way my tightly wrapped stomach was exposed to his eyes. 

Eragon grabbed my hand, stepping slightly in front of me, pulled me closer, glancing around. He used his body as a shield against the prying eyes around us. His gaze followed my own, finding what I had. He then shot the man a warning look. However, the man took it as a challenge, stepping forward whilst cracking his knuckles. I tensed grasping Eragon’s hand tighter. Brom stopped when he found he had been continuing alone.

“Boys, we don’t need to fight. Trust me sir, she is hardly worth your time,’ Brom spoke after noticing the tension in the air around us. “The lass is tired, and we just need to get medicine for her mother. Lord knows how much time she has left…”

The man’s eyes hardened and he stepped forward again, and I flinched at the look in his eyes. When he stepped again, I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the blow I was sure to follow the way his fist had been clenching. It didn’t come. I waited a few moments before looking, then blinking in surprise. My would-be assailant lay sprawled, splattered in mud. I glanced at the boy still grasping my hand, unmoving. Had he struck him?

“She is not yours.”

He had!

His tone was so angry; I could just sense the storm brewing underneath. My own heart was pounding with fear in my ears, and it was all I could do to keep from shivering. Then, as if pulled from my trance by Eragon’s hand squeezing mine tighter, I stood taller. Within moments I had gone from who I used to be at home to who I was becoming through this long journey. I took a deep breath and opened my awareness to those around us.

I noticed the glances we were receiving from the crowd, and decided to end this. If the man made another misstep, surely things would go downhill very quickly. I stepped back dragging Ery along with me as I turned away. As Ery opened to speak, over the sound of the crowd, I heard slogging steps coming toward us. I turned just fast enough to see a glint of metal.

I yelled as I drew my own dagger, barely deflecting the other, and a loud clang silenced our audience as steel clashed with steel. Even though Eragon had turned at the noise, I ignored him, focused on my armed and dangerous opponent. Though at present, he seemed very distracted and surprised that I even had a dagger. His eyes widened further upon noticing the swords at my companions hips.

Not like we had concealed them at all.

“Bad idea, mate. She isn’t just some weak girl to mess with.”

“I will take my chances.”

His dark eyes moved first, grimy blonde hair flicking as he moved. He took a slash towards my exposed midsection, which I deflected. As I spun in for my own attack, my shirt rose a few inches, exposing my bindings, drawing the man’s attention. Instead of using the blade, I slammed the hilt into his shoulder, crushing the bone there and he cried out in pain, crumpling up when I kicked him in the knee. I followed him closely to the ground, pressing my knife to his neck, and spoke softly, so the crowd, cheering for the fight to continue, wouldn’t hear. 

“Next time, think about how that girl you want to use could knock you straight on your ass, hm?”  
He nods swiftly in fear, though stops when the blade catches the skin a bit at the motion, and I stand again, face serious as my gaze searches the faces surrounding us for a moment, searching for my companions. My eyes brushed over the surprised face of a man with black hair and dark molten brown eyes, before continuing onward.  
My eyes finally alighted on Eragon’s face and I allowed the mirth to show in my eyes at his smile. I kept my face in a mask until we had left the area and blended with the crowd again. We continued marching forward, until finally Brom lead us up the steps of a house. He knocked a few times upon the door, in some unrecognizable pattern, and the door opened to a lanky older man, dressed in a long sleeved white shirt and a brown trousers, a common fashion here among men and women. 

His eyes were a kind brown, and he had wiry brown hair in a mess atop his head. Despite his smiling, gentle face he was still intimidating. He towered over me and had a large scar on his neck. However, when his eyes met mine, I swallowed my fear and smiled back. His eyes brightened and when they reached Brom, he chuckled.

“It has been quite a while, old friend,” he spoke in a deep voice, but light tone. 

“Indeed it has. This is Elaina and Eragon,” he said gesturing to us respectively. 

“Hello,” he said extending a hand for us to shake, “I am Jeod.” Once we had all been properly greeted, he allowed us in and showed us the way to the living room. A woman came in soon, dressed in a plain dress of fine make.

“Who are these people?” She asked Jeod in a tone laced with contempt and surprise. It was obvious from her tone that our haggard appearance made her feel uncomfortable and dirty. Noblewoman.

“These are my guests. This is Brom from the stories I’ve told you,” he says. His eyes were silently telling her to play nice. I narrowed my eyes at this. The older men began whispering in hushed tones and the woman, who had already begun to grate on me with her seemingly condescending behavior, turned towards us.

“Ah, well I am Helen, Jeod’s wife. I will take the two of you to your rooms,” she said in a tone that hardly left room to argue, and motioned Eragon and I forward.

“Actually miss, if it is alright, we are quite famished and would greatly appreciate a meal before unpacking,” I say, making my tone a warning to her to be watching what she tries to make us do.

“Well-” she says, beginning to reject, before Jeod cuts in.

“Show them to the kitchen. Brom has informed me they have had quite a morning. Nice fight by the way,” he said winking to me. After we eat a quick meal of soup made from some sort of broth with a few slices of bread, we were shown back to the living room. I memorized the way quickly. When we stopped I noticed Helen eyeing me. I stared back.

“Come dear, let us leave the men to their words and get you washed up. I will draw you a bath and gather you some new clothes,” Helen spoke, eyeing me critically. I scowled at the look, but didn’t resist her again. I couldn’t argue, I definitely could use a good washing.

“Thanks, but I’m alright with the clothing I have. A bath would be nice though,” I said, glancing at Eragon to see what he was going to do. He gave me a ruffled look, mouthing ‘help me.’ Obviously he didn’t want to be left with the other men who were catching up, talking about lost time. I could tell from one glance he would be left to his own devices by the pair. I chuckled and shook my head, turning to follow the older woman back to a bathroom.

She bustled about, handing me a brush and a towel. I sat waiting patiently for her to leave. When she stopped moving, and turned to stare, I stared back.

“What?”

“It’s almost ready,” she states. “Go ahead, and get undressed.”

“I will wait for you to leave.”

“Nonsense. We are both women here, you have nothing I haven’t seen before,” she speaks again, waving a dismissive hand, pouring more oils and salts in with the other hand. I sigh heavily and she stops, turning to glare at me. I glare back, at the impatient look. She huffs for the third time in the silence before I finally lift my hands to the hem of my shirt. I didn’t have time to be stubborn. The warmth and cleanliness of the bath was too tempting.

“Good,” the older woman quipped, turning once more to the tub.

I stripped to my bindings and sat on a stool in front of the full length mirror. Light and dark patches of ruffled skin covered my shoulders. Next, I removed the bandages around my stomach, careful of the still tender wounds. More scars cover the area. I sigh inaudibly over the rushing water.

My hair was soon removed from its usual plait, and I ran the brush provided through the soft tresses. The wavy tendrils caressed my hands, soothing me at the repeated movement. As the water cut off, I sighed again at the blissful feeling. The room fell into a new silence, which was promptly broken by a gasp from behind me.

“Oh…” came the whisper of a voice, barely loud enough to be heard. 

After I set the brush aside, I walked to the side of the bath. The lady tensed behind me, and despite wanting to shrug her reaction off, I couldn’t. It pissed me off. So instead, I glared over my shoulder at her.

“If you’re going to stare at me like that, I will ask you to leave. I have been bathing myself for sixteen years, I’m sure that fact has not changed.” I stepped into the water after removing the last of my bindings. Finally, to my relief the woman stopped gawking like a fool and moved behind my head. She began scrubbing my hair with soaps and syrups I didn’t need, but I couldn’t bring myself to start another conversation with the woman. Instead, I focused on the fingers massaging my scalp and hummed the song from last night.

Once she completed that task, she came once again to my side and looked me in the eyes. 

“I need to clean those out for you,” she said, gesturing towards my wounds. “They’re healing poorly, and the way they look now, they’re going to scar terribly.”

“Do I look like I give a damn about scars?” I was scowling angrily now, all previous bliss gone.

“It is not the surface I’m worried about. If I don’t clean these out, the muscle underneath might have trouble fitting back together properly and could cause you lots of pain or loss of mobility later on.”

“Oh,” I say, dumbfounded that the infuriating woman had so easily refuted my anger. “Go ahead then.”

“This is going to hurt quite a bit,” She states, lifting a rag covered in soap.

“Whatever,” I say, turning my head stubbornly. However, the second the rag touched, a yell of pain escaped before I had the chance to raise my hand and bite it, stopping the sound. Steps crashed down the hall, and there was sudden knocking on the door. 

“Nina, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m peachy,” I grunted back to Eragon through the door.

“You don’t sound alright...” his voice trailed off, concern evident.

“Just having that old injury of mine properly cleaned is all,” I said in a softer tone.

“Oh…” he paused, seeming to think for a moment. “I will be in our room when you’re done.”

Silence dragged on after his footsteps faded. Slowly, the water grew colder and red, a change from the murky white it had previously been, tinged from reopened, sore wounds. When she finally pulled me from the water, my skin was pale and the wounds had white edges. They appeared more irritated, but definitely nowhere near as bad as when I received them. I quickly redressed myself, not wrapping my stomach.The wounds needed to breathe a bit and it was too much effort at the moment. Then, swiping the hair brush, I rushed back to the living room before even half the bath had drained.

“Elaina, are you alright? Eragon mentioned you were having your wounds cleaned.” I nod, presenting them to him. “Come sit and let me examine them. I have to make sure they’re going to heal well.”

As we sat on the couch nearby, I noticed Helen had not reappeared. Perhaps she had noticed my hostility. Good.

After probing my wounds for a time, he requests a needle and thread from Jeod. The other man nods and hurries away to retrieve the materials. Once he returns, Brom sighs heavily and looks at the items, then at me. 

“Nina, I’ve never been any good at stitching wounds, and I fear I will only make them worse. Perhaps you could allow Jeod to help treat them? Would that bother you?” I promise you he can be trusted, he will not harm you.

“Not at all,” I reply, lifting my shirt high enough to reveal the wounds and plenty of scars. I watched his face inquisitively, and was internally grateful to see that nothing had changed at the sight of them. Catching my gaze, he points to his own visible scars, smiling.I imagine that he easily understood what these scars felt like, and could even see how some were caused by how they had healed. He probably shared many of the same marks.

“You are not the only one who bears such scars child,” his voice soothed my nerves as much as the realization of kinship between our wounds.

Then he promptly got to work. For that, I smiled through the pain. He asked no questions, other than if something hurt more than something else, or to move a certain way. He understood. The older gentleman worked or an hour or two, speaking, telling old, funnier stories of his time as a soldier. 

Finally his work was complete, and I asked where my room was.

“Ah, you and Eragon will be staying upstairs together. Brom figured you ought to share a room, seeing as it would be safer should anything happen. Our maid will show you where. Gracelyn, show the lady to her room please?”

Soon I was being directed by the girl. She opened the first door on the right. When I caught sight of the boy sprawled lazily across the bed, I smiled. Tiptoeing and climbing into bed, I kissed his cheek. He turned, Smiling and mumbling, then wrapped an arm around my waist. He kissed my cheek back before taking my brush and leaning over me.

He began running it through my hair gently, slowly soothing me into a slumber. The last thing I recall is him, snuggling up under the covers with me. 

I woke again later in the day, mid afternoon, finding Eragon awakening beside me. He smiled a groggy smile, and hugged me closer for a few moments before standing. I sat up and was unsurprised by the kiss on the forehead I received. 

We marched swiftly down the halls outside. Eragon had already informed Brom through the mental connection that we were planning on going out for dinner; our main goal was gathering information from bar patrons about recent military movements. We mounted our horses and follow the path Brom showed us in our minds, chatting absently. 

The tavern was seedy, compared to how others we visited along the way here had been. I guess it was a good thing however, because this was where we would easily find loose lipped members from each faction in the war. Here nobody could tell the difference between one and the other. Friend and foe. 

The roof of the place was metal, and I’m sure if it rained, the noise would drown out all conversation. The walls were unpainted, barely more than a dinky shack, one that I was surprised to find in this area of the city. Eragon grabbed the rope handle, and as he tugged the door open, loud creaks erupted from the hinges. The lighting inside was dim, the only sources being the candles hanging hap hazardously from the ceiling and walls. The tables and chairs are worn down bones of something that began as a piece of mediocre craft.

We continued forward and took a seat at the nearest table to the door. Soon enough, a barmaid came, taking our orders. Eragon was having chicken, broth and rice, while I was planning on a nice warm bowl of beef stew. We would only be drinking water. It would not do to be wandering about a city we don’t know in a drunken stupor. 

“So, what do you think of them?”

“Jeod and Helen?” She nods, “I trust both of them- we really have no choice- but Helen isn’t exactly a sympathetic person. She is a good person, but snobby and harsh.”

“I haven’t really talked to her much, but I will take your word for it. I like Jeod though. He tells some interesting stories of Brom and his adventures in the younger days.” I smiled at that, knowing Eragon had always loved stories, and loved to be living in the adventure he was now.

After a bit more discussion, we heard a table in a nearby corner discussing happenings in the war as of late. I saw one of the younger men glancing in my direction. I tapped Eragon on the foot with my own, and then smiled at him. The boy had light brown eyes and pale brown hair, near blonde. His hair fell just below his ears in a scruffy mess, barely framing the strong jawline and cheeks that shown in his face. He also smiled at Eragon, a friendly, open smile, and then waved us over. 

“Hey I’m Emmett, nice to meet you.”

“And to you as well. I’m Evan and this is my girlfriend, Elise.”

We sat down in the empty chairs next to him, and listened in on the conversation.

“The Varden must be running out of resources down in that mountain of theirs, holed up with the dwarves. Certainly it cannot last much longer. They are growing restless and bold with trades in larger Empire towns. The same can be said of the Empire though…”

“Yeah, I know, my friend works in the recruiting sector of the nearby garrison, and he is saying that men and women are being pulled from the streets to the fight. Never seen so many new soldiers being trained at once,” Emmett spoke.

“I’ve caught wind that Galbatorix has ordered some very trustworthy men and his second in command to form alliances with some… less than savory folk.”

“Like who?”

“I’ve heard talk of Urgals gathering in the north at his command.” After the word Urgals, the table broke into whispers and looks of horror and disgust at the thought. Obviously they liked the creatures even less than I myself did. 

“If that’s true, half the damn army is going to desert! How the hell are we going to fight a war with an army of incompetent bastards once the smart half of the army deserts.” There were grumbles of approval from the men around, and I noticed only one woman in the group, across the table. Her skin was tan, and her eyes were a dark green. Black hair framed her face and fell to just below her shoulders. She remained silent throughout the whole exchange. Her face was angular in a very interesting way, and I swear she looked like- 

My thoughts come to a screeching halt as dark brown eyes met mine from across the way. Black stringy hair hung in front of his pale hard face. After a few moments of eye contact- which felt like forever- his face turned into a devilish smirk. I continued to stare but nudged Eragon’s foot under the table. 

The man across the bar is staring at me. I’m going to keep an eye on him.

Elaina, plenty of men have been staring at you as of late. A string of agitated emotions crossed his mind into our mental link before he could shut it off and I smirked to myself at the jealous thought. Still, I sighed at it, knowing that wasn’t why some of the men stared at me. I mean, the bloody bandages are sort of unusual. On girls at least…

No, it’s different. He was there this morning when I fought that guy in the streets. He was staring then too.

Keep an eye on him and tell me if he does anything suspicious. 

Alright.

We continued with our meal, listening to the soldiers discussing the upper level commander’s orders. Every time I glanced over Ery’s shoulder, the man was staring. Not only that but he was beginning to seem familiar. Not in the sense that I knew him or had seen him recently, but deep, distant memories that I can’t quite remember. Before this trip. Before meeting Eragon. Before anything I could remember at all.

Not only that, but it seemed he knew me too. 

His eyes held a recognition and sadness I had not seen before and it brought a strange feeling to my chest. I didn’t know why or how, but he looked like he had lost me in some way. It seemed that seeing me now was like a stab in the heart to him. The look he was giving me made me want to sit with him, and ask what he knew of me. Surely, he knew something about me that I myself did not.

Soon, the other members from the military began leaving, including the strange woman, who as they left, appeared to be giving silent directions to the men. Once they had gone, and the rest of the men had scattered about in their groups, Emmett came and sat closer to us. He hailed the bartender and ordered a round of drinks for us, then smiled charmingly. 

“So what brings you to Teirm?” He asked brightly, seeming uncaring of our unfamiliarity with him. What kind of stranger asks something like that out of the blue? But, upon looking his face over, I saw no trace of malice or distrust. If he could be so open of himself, I sure we could scathe by with a few white lies on our part. 

“Well, we were looking for information. My mother is ill, and I need to try to help her feel better with this medicine I heard of from a traveler.” Sticking to a cover story we had already told was safe. “We were also hoping to find out if there were any places that might be overlooked should these squabbles between the Varden and the empire become an all-out war. We want to keep her safe. She is all I have left,” I said, aware that when I spoke of this now I think of Sara’s face. “Surely you have some ideas?”

“Ah yes. I’m sorry to hear about your mother though. My pa past away a few years ago from tango fever and my brother had to leave to be in the army to support us. Then we got the letter that he didn’t make it either, I had to take his place. If you’re looking for a safe place for her, you are all welcome to keep my mother company. She is staying in Bullridge, at a farm I bought for us once this is all finished.”

“Thank you. For now, she is staying with my sister and her family. Hopefully, we will see them again soon.”

“Ah. Who is it that you hope to win this war, as that is what it is devolving to?”

“Sir, that is a very forward question.”

“I know, but, I feel that in the end we all want the same thing. We just want to create a peaceful place for our families to live. Whether the king rules, or someone else doesn’t matter to me.”

“What of the entire race of dragons that he killed off? And the people he tortures?” I glanced at Eragon, knowing the anger in his voice would alert the boy of what our view was. Again I sighed.

“That is in the past. Sure, everyone has done bad things, but from what I heard, he has a good reason for his madness. Rumor has it one of his advisors found an old scroll written by Morzan of exactly why he had gone mad, as told to him by the king himself.”

Eragon gasped, and I felt my own eyes widen. Behind Eragon the Black haired man tensed at the name.

“What did it say?”

“I heard that his dragon was killed, then years after he took power, maybe twenty years ago, his only love was captured along with his right hand and only daughter, and they disappeared. He went into a downhill spiral and is beginning to become even more demented as time goes.”

“Wow… that must’ve been terrible. It’s still terrible to see the things he is doing to the world today.”

“Yeah well… I really do just want the fighting to stop. If everyone would see we all want the same thing, we could just get there in a peaceful manner. Nobody else would need to die to achieve it. However, as I see it, joining the Varden is morally right, but joining the empire will probably end the fight sooner. That is what I’m aiming for.” Eragon and I nodded sympathetically, hearing the passion in his voice. “And who knows, maybe soon I will become some large general and be able to make a difference. My superiors have been showing signs of possibly helping me advance.”

“I hope so. We need more people like you leading. I hope you make it through this man, you deserve to see the ending more than most.”

“Thanks. I gotta head back to camp now, but I usually hang out here around this time if you want to meet up again,” he said, clasping Eragon’s forearm in his own. “It was wonderful meeting you miss,” he said, kissing my hand gently.

“See you soon,” I said as he left. We hung around before venturing out into the cold night ignoring the dark mysterious eyes that clung to our backs like moss to a tree.

The familiarity in his stare continued to irk me on the way home. We wandered slowly along the streets home, I began to feel more and more like I knew him, I had seen him before. Before this trip. Before I could remember anything in true detail. 

However as we walked home, leaving the strange man behind, my mind drifted. I noticed little bits of grass sticking up between where the ground met the walls of houses. Bright little yellow flowers grew there, safe from being trampled by the days’ bustling crowd. Their perseverance brought a smile to my face. They were much like me, growing in defiance to the harsh world around them. When Ery noticed my gaze upon them, he released my hand, leaning down to pluck a pure white one from the ground. Its soft petals seemed to glow in the moonlight as he held it out to me. 

Soon his lips pressed softly to mine, and bubbling warmth settled in my stomach. We had hardly had any time to actually spend time together with everything that had been happening lately, and I savored these few private moments in the cool night air. When he pulled back from me, our hands became intertwined, the stem of the small flower between our palms, dangling delicately.

I felt his withdrawal was much too soon.

We wandered again through the dark streets, somehow closer, but the distance between us remained the same. The twilight which hung in the air brought with it a peace that seemed near impossible in this place of turmoil. I enjoyed the chill of the air around me, flowing through the fabric of my clothes. It brought goosebumps to our arms.

He tugged me forward faster, trying to escape the breeze of night air. After guiding me into the house, he closed the door quietly behind us. We moved silently, lost in our own thoughts of things we had learned and seen from the soldiers tonight.

My own swirled through my head in a whirlwind. The mystery man whose stare was familiar, the Varden’s restlessness, the Empire’s increasingly oppressive nature. The reasons behind these things… It began weighing on me that we were the only ones who might be able to stop this. I didn’t feel special. Nobody could even tell that we were any different than they. We were just people. What made us so special?

Then as though sand turned to diamond under the weight of the world, my resolve hardened. We had to do this. For those who couldn’t fight. The strong must protect the weak. It is our duty to defend them from those who oppress us. Protect them from the evil of the world. We are the strongest this world has to offer. People I knew began to flash through my mind.

My sister and her unborn child, unwillingly thrust upon her. The people of Carvahall who gave so much to the empire from our crops that we had none for ourselves. The people whose bodies were left in a pile in Yazuac, dishonored with no one to mourn them. They had no defense from the monsters who had slain them. I saw the corpse of the poor baby who had not even been given a chance to live in my mind’s eye.

I knew we were strong enough to do it. Not now for sure, but by the time we are at the front lines and fighting the real battles, we will be ready. Too many innocents had been killed at the mad king’s hand. I knew from everybody we had asked and listened to tonight they were all ready for the war to be over.

Nobody really cared who won anymore.

We finally approached Jeod’s, being warmed swiftly by the heat of the fire in the hearth. I left Eragon to relay the information to Brom and Saphira whilst I took a warm bath. Images of black eyes floated through my brain, but I had no desire to grasp onto them. As they drifted however, I didn’t just see them as what he had been today. I recall a younger boy with the same eyes fighting with swords at my side as a kid. I couldn’t tell if it was more of a memory or a figment of imagination. It was vibrant, and alive and it confused me beyond all else.

When I got out and began brushing my hair in the silk nightgown Helen had laid out, I pushed those thoughts from my mind. Soon, Eragon walked into the room and sat behind me, taking the brush from my hands. I leaned forward and rested my face in the now empty appendages as he began softly brushing the wet locks as he had the night before. Again it melted my heart and I smiled at his gentle touch. The thought of how he hit a man in my defense but still treated me like a fragile piece of ice from the lakes we used to slide stones across.

He soon began to hum an old tune my mother would sing to us as children when Ery was over and I was upset. When he finished humming the little introduction, and I quietly began singing the words. I knew that now Eragon understood all of these lyrics so much better, he finally understood what these words my mother had written truly means.

“In my daughter's eyes I am a hero  
I am strong and wise and I know no fear  
But the truth is plain to see  
She was sent to rescue me.  
I see who I wanna be  
In my daughter's eyes.”

My mother wanted me to understand that while she may have seemed happy at the time, she was never truly content where she was. She hated what my father did to her and her children. Her face was always strong though, brave on the outside even when I knew she was dying to escape. She truly was my hero.

“In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal  
Darkness turns to light and the  
world is at peace.  
This miracle God gave to me gives me  
strength when I am weak,  
I find reason to believe   
In my daughter's eyes.

“And when she wraps her hand  
around my finger  
Oh it puts a smile in my heart  
Everything becomes a little clearer  
I realize what life is all about…”

Her children were the only reason she had continued to live in that house, or at all. The only people she could truly be happy around was us, because we knew her secret. I saw it at times when she was around Eragon, like when she sang us this song. He was just as much her child as we were. He didn’t have a mother, but he loved her like he would a mother, and he came to see her any time he came to find me. 

“It's hangin' on when your heart  
has had enough  
It's giving more when you feel like giving up  
I've seen the light  
It's in my daughter's eyes.”

We had both been devastated when she had passed away. Our hearts had broken, and we had grieved for weeks together when we could. I had escaped my father’s wrath to be with him in my time of loss. At the time Sara had been about fifteen, and she had shut everyone out and now I knew why. Our father had become so much more terrible after the incident, and I wondered if maybe in his own way he had loved her before.

“In my daughter's eyes I can see the future  
A reflection of who I am and what will be  
Though she'll grow and someday leave.  
Maybe raise a family  
When I'm gone I hope you see how happy  
she made me  
For I'll be there  
In my daughter's eyes.”

The ending had always made me smile. She had known one day I would escape and be my own person. Whether or not she was going to be there she knew I would make it out of there, and I have. I was living the life she always wanted for me, and more. Her face came back to me like a light and I smiled. We were carbon copies of each other, except her eyes had something strange and bright about them. They were brown like mine, but alive with some kind of unknown power. 

I loved the similarities we shared.

Now that I was older when we looked in the mirror, I could see I probably look exactly like she did at this age. It brought tears to my eyes, but I forced them back, focusing on the feeling of the brush running through my hair. His touch was very calming as he hummed the little ending that she had written for guitar and then quieted. I knew he was smiling, thinking of memories we had with her. Playing in the grass. Dancing together. Going into town and meeting people. All such fond memories. 

All torn away too fast. 

I pushed such upsetting thoughts away from my mind and turned around, facing Eragon. He smiled at me and leaned forward to kiss me. I returned it happily, enjoying this small moment of bliss. Then, in the dark of our room, I was content. I broke the kiss, and leant forward to embrace him tightly. He was my rock, for when everyone else had fled, he stayed steady. Even through all of the recent turbulence of late, including my outbursts of anger, he was there for me. 

I was terribly grateful for that.

We lie down on our bed and fell asleep facing each other our hands entwined, no other parts of our bodies touching, unlike nights in the past. It was a simple, innocent pleasure, one that we were both eager to embrace. 

The bright morning sun was dimmed by the drapes over the windows, but as the faint light kissed my cheeks, I was awoken. The walk to the kitchen was quiet also, and it made me happy to have some peace. This whole city seemed to bring me a feeling of safety, which was strange for many times the streets were bustling with life. 

I pulled some dry oats from the cabinet and pour steaming water over them, before throwing more into a cup for tea. Whilst the tea brewed, I munch at the bar on my oatmeal. When it was finished, I stood from my stool and took the first scalding cup of my cup. It burned my tongue, but I enjoyed the feeling and flavor. 

It was an hour before anyone else even shown from their rooms. The first was Brom, who came to sit with me at the bar, enjoying the warm morning sun. He smiled at me before indulging in the same meal as I. After a while of silence he turned to me.

“Elaina, Jeod has agreed to get us entrance to the palace library today. When we get there we have to search quickly for information on the Ra’zac, the armies, and the king himself,” I sighed, and this caught his attention. “What is it Elaina?”

“Well, it’s just… Eragon and I have never actually learned to read. My father thought wisdom was dangerous, and Garrow never thought to teach the boys how to read.”

“That fool… He thought his kids wouldn’t need to be able to read? I understand your father, but couldn’t your mother have taught you?” he paused, seeing my face fall, and said, “It’s alright. She probably didn’t have a choice. I am going to have to teach you.”

I smiled at the idea. I always loved the idea of learning; ignorance was the reason for most misunderstandings. I hated not understanding things; it made me feel stupid and weak. Weakness lease to helplessness and that is not something I will stand for if it can be helped. Knowing that I soon would be able to learn more on my own made my heart swell with excitement and as I looked at him.

“You can call me ebrithl.”


	18. Talking Cats

We strolled up the now familiar streets towards Jeod’s house after a long meeting with Emmett, and I again glanced at the curious house next door. The vines still crawled up the windows, shading the interior from our view, and blocking out the dim light of twilight. The house seemed nearly lifeless. However, I saw movement on the porch railing. There, sitting on the banister was a large brown cat. His fur was long and scruffy and…  
His terrifyingly vibrant, green eyes stared straight at me, eyes in slits and filled with interest.   
Who are you?  
The gravelly voice rumbled through my mind and I stared curiously back at the creature. His head turned to the side curiously and leant slightly forward.   
Do you know?  
He turned his head to the opposite side and I was now that sure the strange creature was speaking to me. Just as I came to this conclusion he turned round, leaping from the railing and marching back towards the house, traipsing in through the open door. I gathered my wits just as the last of his tail disappeared inside.  
“Wait!” I yelped, releasing Eragon’s hand and rushing forward. He followed with and reconnected our hands, stopping me in my tracks.   
“Elaina, what are you doing?” he asked incredulously as I whipped around to stare at him.  
“The cat asked me…Well…”  
“Are you alright Nina?” he asked, feeling my face with his hand.  
“Of course I’m-”  
Are you coming? The cat asked, poking his head once more out the door. I turned to Ery, seeing his wide eyes. Now he had heard it too.  
“Come one,” I said tugging his hand and moving forward towards the building. He reluctantly followed me up the rickety steps and through the door.   
The room was dark, with no light due to the vines of ivy covering the windows. The strong smell of incense burning somewhere in the house filled the air. Cracks littered the walls behind shelves and shelves of books, and a large desk wrapped around a small area, where little trinkets and baubles were stored on more shelves. Scrolls littered shelves and tables as well, and potted plants littered the room, many I had never seen before. The shapes and sizes and colors were innumerable and I smiled at the vast array. Upon the spines and openings of scrolls and books were names and words. Some I knew, others appeared to be written in our script, but with words I didn’t necessarily understand. Others had the writing of another language, more swirling and graceful than our own. Many of the things present reminded me of the strange curly haired woman from before, disputing the existence and differences of frogs and toads.  
Do you have an answer? The cat was now lounging across the counter of a large table, stealing my attention from the area around me.   
“Of course, I-” but stopped short when I realized I didn’t have an answer to that. What was I to say? I was a farm girl from a small northern town. One of thousands out there, yeah super special. That I was best friends with the last free dragon rider? Only through association. Really anyone could’ve ended up in my place.  
His already vibrant eyes seemed to glow in the barely existent light. I blinked contemplating his words. They echoed again through my mind, as though he had whispered them again.  
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I whispered in the silence, realizing I truly did not know myself as well as I liked to believe. I didn’t know of my lineage, the reasons why I did things, the things I like and dislike. I had lived my whole life to please my father. I hardly knew anything about myself.   
Eragon glanced at me when I spoke, and in my peripheral I see his brows furrow in concern; I ignore him, instead taking deep, calming breaths. All of my confidence in myself withered as I came to that conclusion. My knees wobbled underneath me, and I lost control of the ragged breaths escaping me.  
Truly, I was just a simple girl. I was a normal farm girl who happened to be friends with some extraordinary people. Sure I was determined, but anyone could. I had lived in constant fear my whole life and I guess that made me courageous. So did many others, however.   
I shook my head to clear the thoughts. It didn’t matter what a person was made of. They could still do incredible things, given the chance. Especially I, who was apparently destined to fight alongside the last hope of a once great nation.  
“I don’t know who I am, cat, but I know for certain who I wish to be. I know who I will be,” I said softly.   
And who is that, child?  
“A survivor, and a fighter. I will protect myself and as many others as I can, with my dying breath. Other than that, there isn’t much else I can be.”  
Eragon smiled and grasped my hand just as the door opened, causing us to freeze, revealing the curly haired woman. She walked in and began placing things on the shelves nonchalantly, as though two teens hadn’t been caught inside of her unattended shop. She hummed a broken, jovial tune, completing the task before her. Then as she reached up to place something on a high shelf she smiled over her shoulder at us.   
“So what brings you two love birds to my shop?” she asked lightly. I coughed in embarrassment, then sputtered, unable to form words. Instead Eragon spoke for me.   
“She, um… she heard your cat speak… then I did too, and he told us to follow him… and so here we are,” he said in a flustered incoherent jumble. He was about as elegant of words as I was at the moment. The woman’s eyes, behind her ridiculous spectacles, widened and she turned fully to face us.  
“Solembum spoke to you?” she inquired. I nodded, assuming that was the creature’s name. She seemed surprised at the occurrence, but not because he could speak, but because he had. She walked over to us, and looked us over pensively, humming assent occasionally. I shifted uncomfortably, and Eragon subconsciously clenched his gloved hand. Once she had finished making us thoroughly uncomfortable, she stepped towards the hall and gestured for us to follow.   
“You two must be quite interesting people for him to have spoken to you. It is not often that he takes kindly to people, let alone reaches out to contact them.” I stumbled over something on the floor and she kept going, leading us slowly with a bounce in her step. “Don’t mind the mess, I rarely have time to clean much. I’m Angela by the way,” she said so offhandedly in her babbling I almost missed it. “Anywho, I wanted to try something since you both seem like such an interesting pair. It is rare we get such intriguing guests, even in this large a town. You see, sometimes the sheer number of people makes the faces blur even more.”  
She walked into a room off the right side of the end of the hall, inviting us to follow. Inside were a few chairs and a table. A shelf sat against the far wall, which she was retrieving a few items from. The room was dark, vines on the windows casting interesting shadows on the floor, accentuated by a fire that was bellowing in the fireplace between some of the shelves. We went and had a seat, waiting for her to join us.  
“These are the knucklebones of dragons. I want you to pick one,” she said to Eragon. He did so and she went on. “Now stand and throw it into the flames.”   
Eragon did as the woman said, and immediately the flames began cracking and jumping. We sat in a slightly awkward silence watching the flames. Then I felt Eragon’s conscious brush mine before he spoke.   
I think she might be a witch Elaina.  
Obviously, what do you think we are doing now?   
Hm, I think she might be a bit crazy…  
We were startled out of our mental conversation by the woman laughing hysterically all of the sudden. Her chortling lasted for a minute before she calmed and pushed her hair back a bit.   
“I’m not crazy, just eccentric.” She giggled.  
“You could hear us?”  
“Well you weren’t exactly being quiet or guarded. Plus your faces gave everything away!” She giggled again before she stood and began poking the fire with a stick. Then, when I began to wonder what she was doing, she bent to pick something that had fallen out of the flames up from the ground. Her long slender fingers brought it back to the table and she inspected it with her large eyes.  
“This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone's future. Most of the time it's the aspen or the elm, both signs that a person will live a normal span of years. However, instead of one, you have both. Whether this means that you will live forever or that you will only have an extraordinarily long life, I'm not sure. Whatever it foretells, you may be sure that many years lie ahead of you.”  
Eragon and I glanced at each other in confusion and happiness. If things go right, Eragon will survive the coming events. “Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile. Here the wandering path, lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together - a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. The wandering path shows that there are many choices in your future, some of which you face even now.”  
“I see great battles raging around you, some of them fought for your sake. I see the mighty powers of this land struggling to control your will and destiny. Countless possible futures await you - all of them filled with blood and conflict - but only one will bring you happiness and peace. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few who are truly free to choose their own fate. That freedom is a gift, but it is also a responsibility more binding than chains.” His eyebrows scrunched as the strange woman continued talking.   
“And yet, as if to counteract that, here is the double lightning bolt. It is a terrible omen. There is a doom upon you, but of what sort I know not. Part of it lies in a death - one that rapidly approaches and will cause you much grief, other parts in a fate worse than death befalling a dear one.” Who else could he possibly lose? And why had her eyes suspiciously flickered over to me when she said this?   
“But the rest awaits in a great journey. Look closely at this bone. You can see how its end rests on that of the sailing ship. That is impossible to misunderstand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not but you will never again stand in Alagaësia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it. The next bone is easier to read and perhaps a bit more pleasant.” A sigh of relief escaped us both, before the woman continued.   
“An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates - for that is the magical symbol - strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare. I believe you may already know who she is... Now for the last two bones, the tree and the hawthorn root, which crosses each other strongly. I wish that this were not so - it can only mean more trouble - but betrayal is clear. And it will come from within your family! Though you shouldn't fret about what has yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing worry. I guarantee that you'll feel better once you're out in the sun.” None of the last lines made sense to either of us because Eragon only had Roran left. Eragon and I knew there was no way in hell he would betray us.  
However, when I noted her gleaming eyes turn to mine, seeming sinister in the firelight, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what my fate held.  
“Now for you I will try something different.”  
We sat in silence, pondering the witch’s words and she turned her body to me across the table. She grabbed my hand over the table and stared into my eyes and began chanting in some ancient language, different even than the one we used for our magic. Her eyes slid shut and we stared as she swayed slightly before opening her eyes. It seemed as though she was staring into my soul.  
“A long path you shall walk,  
Though never alone.  
Born of power,  
Made for the throne.  
Mother in a cage,  
Only one held the key.  
You too soon shall be  
Locked in chains.  
Both of duty,  
And of pain.  
Behind bars in the dark,  
Your fate remains,  
Suffering follows your family,  
Only you can stop it.  
Those closest to you,  
Of past, present and future,  
Will guide you,  
And make sacrifices,  
Though none greater than your own.  
Hard decisions await you.  
Pain will be the guide,  
It will take time.  
All shall pass,  
Peace will come after the tide.”  
None of it made any sense! My mother had never been in a cage. She could have left any time she wanted, and this woman thought the same fate awaited me. Friends of past, present and future… there were few people I left behind that I considered friends, and I doubted I would see any of them again anytime soon. Friends of the future… that I certainly had no ideas about. Whether or not I knew them now or later, I don’t want them making any sacrifices for me. It seems I would suffer a lot before I got any relief.  
I glanced over at Eragon to see what he thought of all of this, only to see him pondering it, deep in thought. This evening had revealed many strange things and if possible, brought about many more questions than that which already existed on our ideas of the future. It seemed there was way too much confusion muddling our pasts and futures to put much faith in what she said. I felt a pang of jealousy at what she had said to Eragon though. “Your love is of noble birth and heritage…” Does that mean he didn’t love me? Would we not be together in the future? I shake my head, throwing off the traitorous thought. Maybe I don’t know all the facts yet.   
Although, nothing in my fortune told anything of a romance. It all seemed to revolve around my family. My sister’s words and cryptic messages come back to me vaguely and my head hurts a little bit, in a strange throbbing pattern.   
The witch kindly guided us out, though on the way Eragon paused and stared at the werecat the rested on the counter whose gleaming eyes stared right back. After that hiccup he quickly continued out and we marched off back to Jeod’s for a good night’s rest.  
We would need it to begin our packing for the journey ahead of us.   
AN So I am extremely sorry I haven’t posted in so long but I am excited to tell you that we are on the cusp of the most exciting part of the first half of this book. And, even better, after the next chapter, I can very happily tell you I have the part I am talking about written. I know you guys are expecting some sad stuff in the future, and it will come, but not in the way you’re expecting it. I just have to knock out the last boring chapter (maybe it will be a lil fluff) then you guys better be ready to be shocked. Also, who wants to hear more from Sara and Terry? Just a question.


	19. The Search for the Path

Eragon’s POV

There is a faint light coming from a fire set in the sconce above the door casting an ominous shadow along the hall of cells. The walls glitter where moisture clings to them, some of the patches darker than others, and I don’t need to guess to know what it is. A copper scent lingers in the air and my discomfort grows as I look around the cells.   
My eyes eventually land on the cell at the end of the hall where a wispy figure is taking up minimal space on the floor in the corner. There is a fresh bruise over one of her eyes that spreads over her nose in a small caress. I sigh and stare at it before more tiny bruises catch my eyes then the sight of a smaller pool of blood behind her and it is all hitting me at once. I can feel the pain of the wounds I am seeing, and I scream from the pain.   
She is dying I can feel it.   
However, the physical wounds aren’t the worst part of it all. Somewhere deep inside my chest I can feel something dark stirring, a pulsing that can only be described as black. I look down at my own hands and catch sight of the black spiderweb of veins inching close to my heart.  
Hurry Eragon, I don’t have much time left, a voice whispers within my mind and I clutch at my head trying to ease the pain but everything is throbbing and pulsing until-  
I am awakened by a feeling against my leg, a gentle nudge, a twitch. I lay still wondering if it was an unconscious motion or a signal for something. I feel another small twitch against my elbow, which prompts me to crack a small smile and turn onto my side to see its cause. Laying next to me, her hair splayed around us in a dark brown mess is Nina, eyes still closed in the arms of sleep. I watch her for a moment, her eyes moving rapidly under their lids, dreams floating through her mind. Her lips move barely, forming incoherent words that are only just released in her soft exhales of air.   
I realize when she moves again, flinching in reaction to some unseen threat that her dream is something darker. I remain facing her, my arm gently reaching out to brush her loose bangs from her eyes. She tenses for a moment, freezing even under the gentle touch before her face loosens and relaxes into my palm. I lean forward to kiss her cheek gently before carefully removing myself from the bed. The blanket was kicked off by both of us in the night so I picked it up and lay it over her small form once more.   
Downstairs there is fruit laid out across the small wooden table at the corner of the large kitchen. I take a few of the sweeter ones and seat myself next to the scrolls that had been left open on the table. I glance over the scrolls, and a heavy sigh sounds next to me as Brom sits in the free chair. His gnarled hand sets out an ink well and some papers before I feel his mind reach out to me. I have called Nina from your room to begin the reading lesson so you can be useful at the palace later. I nod my head and the corner of my mouth lifts as Nina appears with her hair in a nest around her shoulders, well rumpled from sleep.   
“Why couldn’t we have waited another hour for this lesson? The sun is hardly up and you've pulled me from a very comfortable bed,” she says scowling at the old man and slumping into a chair at the end of the table closest to me. I roll my eyes.   
“Jeod got us access to the records in the palace but only for the next couple of days so we have to learn as much as we can now so we can actually be helpful.” She scoffs but perks up a little. Brom begins the lesson by writing out the whole alphabet slowly and making us recognize the letter then drawing it ourselves. Nina is picking it up faster than me, having had a few books from her childhood to study growing up. It was a difficult thing to learn, especially when certain letters looked just like the others, or combined to make new sounds. However by the end of the second hour we were at it Brom had us reading well enough to recognise the key words from our search for the Ra'Zac. We were also getting the basic gist of sounding words out and matching them to the words we knew how to speak from comprehension so the knowledge was sinking in easier than before.   
Jeod had arrived earlier and told us we would be leaving at midday hich was fast approaching but still we decided to all go to the tavern where we had met the young soldier to see if we could gather any more pertinent information today. As it was only early morning however, there didn’t appear to be too many people in the tavern, so instead we purchased some food and drinks and had a quiet peaceful meal away from the prying eyes and ears of Helen. I had noticed on more than one occasion her hovering around the house as we had our meetings about our next plans of action and I knew she did not appreciate our anti-empire sentiments.   
Finally with full bellies we headed to the city center in order to begin the real search for the people who had killed my uncle, and I secretly searched for any places where an important captive prisoner might be held.  
Nina’s POV  
It had been a week since Ery and I had started our lessons and already the words were flying through our brains like a hot knife through butter. We had caught on quick, and it was certainly making the process easier. This did not mean however, that it meant we were finding results in our search for information. Not only that, but I could tell there was much weighing on Eragon’s mind, from the mysterious words of our neighbor, to something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.   
He has been quieter, seeming to battle something within and I can tell that his searching doesn't stop with what we are looking for together. I have caught him more than once taking a second glance over some of the scrolls Brom, Jeod and I had already searched. I kept quiet though, knowing he would open up to me when he was ready. That being said though, he has hit a bit of a nerve as the extra stress is making him a bit snappier than usual.   
As we are headin home on the eighth day of our exhaustive scouring of the records of Teirm, he pulls me aside and finally reveals what has been nagging at him. He gestures to the older men that we would meet them back at the house with a look that clearly says, “I’ll stay out of trouble.” We step slightly into the shadows of an alley, probably looking like one of the many young lovers we had often seen sneaking about the town. He leaned back against one of the buildings and dropped his head into his hands, sighing before looking me in the eyes.   
“I had a dream. I have had similar ones a couple of times now, of a woman in a cell, with dark hair and her conditioning is worsening every time.” I remain silent and nod for him to continue. “She wants me to find her and help her. She doesn’t speak much but I know if we don't find her soon she won't last long. This last dream something was different. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a strange pulsing feeling that made me feel tired, like I had taken some of Gertrude’s calming herbs. I think she’s been poisoned. What’s more, I think she is an elf, and could be an invaluable ally if we really decide we are going to fight the Empire and Galbatorix.” I breathe heavily taking his words in. I mull the scenario over in my head and can only come up with one course of action.   
“Eragon we need to talk to Brom about this. Him and Jeod might know where the woman is being kept, or even who she is specifically. They seem to know much more than they let on to us and I think it's time we get some truth out of them.”   
He sets his jaw in a firm line and nods. “Come on lets get home and sort this out once and for all. I have been searching for any clues all week and I have got nothing, I think they’re our only chance at figuring this out.”  
We walk briskly back, and swing the door open loudly, startling Helen, ho was seated in the living room with a needle and some clothes in her hands. She quietly curses as she jabs the needle into her hand and glares up at us.  
Not in the mood to deal with her, I ask, “Where are Jeod and Brom?” She nods her head to the study down the hall and silently continues on with her work. I march my way into the room and clear my throat at the men who are pouring over a map on the central table. The older men look up at us, and we walk forward. My eyes glance over the map and catch a few familiar names, tracing the places we had passed on our travels, amazed by the distance we had traversed.   
“Yes?” Brom said impatiently after neither of us started speaking right away. Eragon quickly launches into the story of the dreams he had been having, and I could see the looks Brom and Jeod were exchanging.   
“Look Brom, we have come all this way and it is about time we figure out exactly what we are going to be doing after we kill these sick bastards. I know you’ve been hiding something, and I would bet you know something about the dreams Eragon has been having as well.” I don’t wait for a response after Eragon has finished his story, and now gaze at the old man with stern eyes. “We have followed your guidance across the country, kept with your teachings but I believe you owe us this Brom,” I say this last part a bit quieter and I see him nod in approval.   
“You are right, I have been keeping a secret from you. I will explain everything,” I see Jeod’s eyes narrow at this, “So long as you listen silently.” I nod and allow him to continue, seeing the same ascent from Ery.   
“Lifetimes ago, I lived in Doru Araeba, the city of the riders. I had been chosen to live there after a dark sapphire stone had hatched into a dragon for me. I named her Saphira.” A gasp sounds to my left and I know Eragon is feeling a bit of guilt and sorrow for the fate we both knew had likely befallen his dragon’s namesake. “We were a magnificent pair, and when, as I have told you in past stories, Galbatorix began his crusade against those we loved, we fought him tooth and nail. I founded the Varden, a group of refuge from those the Empire had wronged. We undermined as much of his efforts as we could but his power was too great. One by one he finished the last other riders off, as we did with his Forsworn, and in the final battle my dragon was slain trying to protect me. I was a fool, thinking I could take on the mad king and his right hand man alone... The anguish was unbearable, but after taking out Morzan and his dragon I was able to escape and went into hiding. In my escape however, my friend Jeod here and I had managed to steal something you two have become quite familiar with. Saphira’s egg.” Our eyes widen and he just nods solemnly for a moment trying to brush the pain away as tears well in his eyes at the thought of his life partner’s awful demise. My heart is heavy with the thought of how that same pain could befall my best friend if we continue on this war path.  
“I was hoping I could lead you to the right path without revealing my history, but you deserve to know.I hope you can still realise what that path is. I believe you should go to the Varden, join the cause and end this war. Of course you’ll need more training but every day we run around this land is a day people are dying here. Like you have said, as a Rider now, the last free Rider, you have a duty to help the people of this land. Without you there really is no hope. People are tired of fighting, on both sides of the war. If good is to triumph, it really is now or never.”  
I glanced over to my best friend and he sighs, running a hand through his messy locks. “Okay, but first we rescue the elf. As a Rider I have to protect her as well. Where can we find her?”  
“I can do you one better than just finding her,” Jeod states in a somber tone. “I know exactly who the woman in question is, and how she came to be in this position.” We all turn our heads towards him and wait impatiently. “A few months ago the ambassador for the elves who ferried the egg to and from the Varden mysteriously vanished, along with the egg Brom and I had stolen from the mad king. As Brom said the egg landed in your care by chance circumstances by her magic, which must have formed some sort of bond between you two. Now, the Empire only has one place in the country that is high security enough to keep an elf from escaping.” His eyes met Broms across the map then slid to a name on the table.  
“Gil’ead.”  
After the discovery of where this mysterious woman was being held, Eragon insisted we leave the next day to keep her from suffering any more. I know thinking of the woman also makes him think of me because he can feel all of her pain, and he knows that is the pain so similar to that which I had endured. It so happens however that the following day, news came from one of Jepds spies in the city that a small vial of seithr oil was being shipped from the port to Dras Leona to an unnamed buyer.  
“Of course...” Brom had muttered thoughtfully at the news. He glanced at us and spoke again. “There is an obsidian cliff that towers over Dras Leona where strange creatures are seen flying in the evening. That has to be where the Ra’zac are hiding. Shit, that place will be crawling with soldiers, it’s almost guaranteed we’d be found out if we try to catch them there. Maybe we can lure them out... If we do that however, we will lose any advantage we have in them not knowing Saphira exists right now.” His hand tubs at his beard thoughtfully. “Well there is one thing we can do, and it is about time anyway,” Brom says, rising from his chair with a heavy sigh.  
“What is it?” Eragon asks, not quite liking the sound of this mysterious plan.   
“I am gonna force Galbatorix into sending those damned birds after me. We were once mortal enemies, I am sure he wouldn’t be able to resist once he finds out I am alive.”  
With that, he walked out the door and started whatever he would do to make sure the king got news of his survival.


	20. On the Road Again

Eragon’s POV  
It was quickly decided that we would head with all haste back to Bullridge. Brom had sent an anonymous letter to a captain there that Brom, one of the rider’s of old, had been spotted riding toward the city. Hopefully it would be enough to provoke the Ra’zac and draw them from their hellish safe haven. We had left Jeod and his wife, who said if we were heading towards the Varden soon after it would not be long before we met again.   
After the near two weeks apart from each other, Saphira and Eragon were happy to be reunited once more, looking forward to having the loneliness of the road again. Saphira had been quite upset at what Brom had been keeping from us and in no uncertain words told him if he lied about anything else she might just have to eat him for breakfast. I had laughed heartily at that before we began the hard ride back through the mountains towards Gil’ead. We all still got the feeling of being watched, so Saphira stayed low to the ground or high above the clouds with Eragon on her back.   
After travelling through the foothills of the Spine again, we could see beneath us the Woadark Lake splayed out below. We traveled until nightfall, when we stopped for the night a few hours journey away from the lake, where we were more likely to encounter strangers looking to cause trouble.  
By now we were pros at setting up camp and cooking up a little dinner before starting our watch shifts. I slept for two hours or so before Brom woke me for my turn on watch.   
The night was silent and I found myself grateful for the small respite. The sounds of the day, whilst rhythmic and steady, were always so distracting. The horses’ hooves and huffs, their saddles shifting with their movements, Saphira’s wing beats overhead, and the chatter between my three companions was beginning to wear on my nerves. As much as I loved them, we had been on the road for months and they rarely stopped. The only reason I hadn’t complained because I knew Eragon was using this time to learn as much as he could. Now, as I sat on watch, staring at the starry sky, the silence was blissful.  
That is, while it lasted.   
Off to my left in the woods I heard a crunch in the dry leaves. Then a twig snapped somewhere off to my right. I scowled, and stayed alert, but didn’t let whatever it was know that I was aware of its presence. Instead, I reached out with my mind and roused my friends, telling them not to move.  
What is it? Came Eragon’s groggy voice.   
Something is either moving very quickly around our camp or we are being surrounded, I whispered back to the three of them. I quickly took stock of my surroundings, seeing that by some lucky chance, the other two had lain down near their swords making it easier for them to spring into action should we be attacked. My dagger was still strapped to my side from the day before and my bow and arrows, which had only been used for hunting thus far on the trip from Teirm, were also nearby. Perhaps I could take down a few before they reached us.   
I began sensing the area like Brom had been teaching us on this leg of the trip and what I found was not very assuring. All around us were about twenty or so large humanoid creatures with large horns protruding from their skulls, and two large bird-like creatures I had not seen before. They were about half the size of Saphira and had a strange grey feeling to the walls guarding their minds. I relayed all of this information and I heard Brom mentally curse. Apparently we were on the same train of thought.  
Then suddenly, a horn rang through the night air, full and deep, causing the clearing to burst into action. We all hopped up, grabbing our weapons and formed a triangle, while Saphira took to the air. I grasped my bow first, and fired at the creatures that had flown from the shadows with terrible speed. They were large Urgals, bigger than the ones we had faced in Yazuac, which I found peculiar. I managed to shoot down six or seven before the first of them reached us.   
I kept my bow in one hand, and pulled my dagger with my right, slashing at weak points in the leather armor they wore like Brom had told us to. I twisted and turned, slowly realizing they had separated us and we were all on our own. The wind was knocked from me as I failed to completely dodge a fist thrown by one massive urgal, causing me to grunt and fall onto my back. He leaned over me as I fell, following me down, and pressed his hand against my neck.   
I grasped at it, legs flailing under him, fighting to get back the air I had lost, but soon black spots began taking over parts of my vision. Then the hand was ripped away as a sword tore into the arm holding me, and I could breathe again. Before I could thank Eragon, his eyes widened as his head snapped to the side, then he slackened, falling over me, where I could see a creature had swung his massive club and knocked the boy out.   
All action stopped as the same creature lifted him and held a knife to his throat, causing Brom and Saphira to stop their fights against them as well, shouting in protest. We complied as they bound us, Brom and I in rope, Saphira in chain. They tied us to posts, and set up camp where we had, and now I could see what the bird creatures were. They were like older, creepier versions of the Ra’zac Brom described in his stories. Before I could see more, an urgal came up and stuck a needle into both our arms, a needle coated in some kind of serum.   
As the world became fuzzy around me, I could hear the odd clicking sounds from long ago, back in the village of Carvahall.   
When next I awoke, we were in the same place. A fire crackled nearby, and judging by the heat, it was just behind me. I could see Eragon from under my blindfold- which hadn’t been there when I passed out- lying on the floor, gagged, bound and blindfolded as well. Behind him was a large canvas tent where noise was coming from. A language I didn’t know was being spoken in a guttural voice in the distance, and Eragon groaned slightly, obviously in pain. A pair of boots walked into my vision, nudging him.  
“Looks like he’s waking up,” one of the voices from earlier spoke, then the feet shifted and kicked him in the stomach. I yelled, and Eragon grunted as the kick landed. “What, you’d rather it be you in pain?” The shoes began walking towards me, and I twisted my shoulders to remove the blindfold and gag. As the dark, ugly face got closer, I leant up, and as it stopped, I spat right in his eye.  
“You bitch! You ought to learn some respect, and I would sure be glad to teach you,” he said, growing from angry to cunning and sly as he spoke. My eyes narrowed at his tone but I continued to stare defiantly at him. He backhanded me across the face causing me to grunt in pain, before untying me from my pole. By now, Brom and Eragon had figured out what was happening and both began to shift and wriggle with muffled protests as I was dragged further and further from them.   
I was able to get my leg up and kick the urgal in the stomach, knocking him away, before one of the Ra’zac, who appeared to be orchestrating this whole thing, scared the creature away. They had a conversation in the other tongue, and I only got that the Ra’zac was mad at the Urgals, and the Urgals didn’t see why, and as I stood there still, all of the Urgals packed up and left the clearing together.   
Then the Ra’zac turned to me, it's strange black beak appearing to be longer and thinner than I remember as it pecked at my shoulders harshly. I twisted away, but it continued, and I could feel it breaking skin in some places. Then, suddenly, I saw from over my shoulder, just as the other one came from the tent, an arrow whizzing past striking the one closest to me in the shoulder. The creature cried out in pain, then pushed me to the ground a few feet from Brom’s post so I couldn’t escape. I thought maybe the Urgals had come back, but seeing the white feathers of the arrows, I knew this wasn’t the case. Another arrow flew from the opposite direction, confusing us. It missed its target, landing in the mud a few feet from me.   
The Ra’zac closer to Eragon again kicked him in the ribs and shoulder, before a loud whistling sound erupted from his beak and the winged creatures from before flew into the clearing, landing on either side of me. One of the Ra’zac moved closer to Brom with a knife, hitting him across the face. He stood over Brom, and everything seemed to fall into slow motion.   
The creature raised the knife above his head and Eragon began to flail and yell on the ground. I kick one of the beasts off me with a sudden burst of strength. As the knife fell I dove between Brom and the blade, my back facing him to hug him close. I feel nothing as the knife plunges into my side, creating a large wound above my hip. I hear Eragon screaming my name, and feel Brom press into my side, trying to stop the bleeding, and I hear another voice screaming. It sounds like my own, and my mouth is hanging open, but I am not trying to make any sound. My vision grows fuzzy, and I can hear the angry hisses of the Ra’zac as I’m pulled from the safety of Brom’s arms. All at once everything fades to black.   
Eragon’s POV  
My mind went blank upon hearing Elaina’s scream which cut off abruptly, and finally shifted enough to remove my blindfold. Ignoring the pain of my torso, I sat up, watching in despair as the large creatures flew off into the sunlight. I kept wriggling, trying everything to get these damned restraints off me, until a pair of hands grasped my wrists and a gruff voice told me to hold still so he could remove them. Only when this was completed, did I glare over at the stranger who had come to our rescue.  
He had grimy, stringy black hair that dropped to his shoulders, and his face had dirt smeared across it. The more I stared the more his face gave me a nagging feeling of familiarity. I could still see through the dirt, that his eyes were the same strange black from the bar in Teirm. He wore ragged leather armor and over that a black cloak. He was armed with a massive broadsword and a bow. His quiver was missing a few arrows, and I figured he had used them to scare our captors away.  
Immediately I was on guard, wondering if he had been following us all this way. I slowly walked over to Saphira, never turning from the man, and released her growling form from her chains. Before I could even blink, she was in front of me in a defensive stance, shaking in what was either rage or fear.  
“Who are you?” I asked him in a strong voice.  
“My name is Murtagh,” he stated, matching my tone. I told Saphira mentally to stand down. We had bigger things to worry about at the moment. I glanced around the clearing once she had, and noticed something important was missing. “That’s some woman you got there.”  
“Elaina?” Perhaps she had run off sometime after the Ra’zac had left… Doubtful.  
“Is that the name of the girl you were with at the bar?” I nodded in response. “She took a knife in her side to save the old eagle nose over there.” I can feel the panic rising in my chest as his face is cast in a shadow.  
“Where is she?” I asked, noting the guilty look on his face. I could feel the rage building in me even though I had not heard the answer yet. He turned away when he said it, and my heart dropped into my stomach.  
“They took her.”  
Silence rang through the clearing, and only Brom’s groan as he regained consciousness permeated it. I glanced at him as he stood; taking stock of the clearing but otherwise ignored him. I noticed his head snapped towards me at my icy words.  
“You just allowed them to take her?” His head lowered in shame and I growled out, “you were able to save me but they got away with her? Damnit, it should’ve been me.” I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots. The pain was miniscule compared to how my heart was throbbing in my chest, and Brom walked towards me.   
“Eragon, it’s alright,” he spoke, though his voice sounded pained and worried. “We will get her back.”  
I glanced up at him through the tears that were now glazing my eyes, and was reassured by the look of promise and determination on his face. I was able to calm down a bit, and nodded my head.  
“We need to move,” I said. “They may come back with reinforcements, and then we will stand no chance of ever getting her back.”  
“I’m coming with you,” Murtagh said. I saw Brom’s eyes narrow at his voice, having just laid eyes on him for the first time.   
“You. What are you doing here?” Brom asked, getting in front of me as Saphira had. He looked incredibly wary of the man before us, and I couldn’t blame him.   
“I had a feeling trouble was going to follow this kid,” he said gesturing to me, “so I did too. Never know when you might need a little help,” he said glancing around at the clearing. Something seemed to pass between the two mentally and Brom huffed before nodding his head.   
“Gather the horses. It’s going to take almost a month to reach Gil’ead and that’s if we are moving fast. I have no doubt that is where they'll be taking her and once they get word of my message from Bullridge, they'll be expecting us. If we can beat the message, maybe they won't have time to fortify and we will sneak in unnoticed. Eragon, fly ahead with Saphira and keep an eye out for danger. Now is not the time for stealth to be a priority, but avoid being seen if you can.”  
“Brom, what were those things?”  
“They’re called Lethrblaka. They are the old, ancient parents of the Ra’zac. That is what they become when they continue living for centuries at a time. The fact that the king has them makes me that much more worried over what he could have in that black castle of his...” He trailed off, staring in the direction the abominations had flown.  
I nod and silently follow his orders and our race to save Elaina and the elf began. Somehow I just knew that we would find them both in the same place. This brought me no comfort however, for I had seen the condition the other girl was in. I did not want such a fate to befall Elaina too.   
She had already seen too much suffering.  
Elaina’s POV  
When I finally came to, I shivered at the harsh cold of the air around me. The stone I was resting on seemed to suck all of the warmth from my body and I quickly sat up, only to find myself swaying with dizziness. The wound on my stomach burned and it reopened, letting a new trickle of blood fall from it at my movement. When I opened my eyes, nothing changed from when they were closed, revealing the pitch black room I was in. Once my eyes had adjusted, I could see metal bars of a cell, and through them, another cell. Through the bars, I saw the woman that Eragon had shown me memories of from his dreams.   
Her condition seemed to have deteriorated over the last few days he hadn’t dreamt of her, and I was almost grateful for his ignorance. Her cheeks, which were turned skyward as she lay on her back, were blackened with bruises. Her arms and legs were exposed due to the miniscule amount of clothing she was wearing and I wondered if she could still feel the bruises, lumps and burns in her sleep.   
I tried to call out to her, but all that came out was a hoarse wheezing. My throat was so dry, at the test of using it I felt it would begin bleeding from another breath. I reached a hand up to massage my throat, only to regret the action, agitating the bruises from nearly being suffocated by the urgal during our initial capture. My body lurched forward at my command, standing on weak legs, and I briefly wondered how long I had slept without food or water. Ignoring the thought, I walked forward and pressed my face to the bars. I could see a short hallway, with doors on either end, but our cells were the only things in sight.  
Just as I turned to lie back down, the one to my left opened and a man with bright red hair and glowing red eyes, which were a sickening contrast to his pale, paper thin skin, approached. He smiled at me and I cringed in fear at the show of sharp white teeth.   
“Hello, I’m Durza. I believe it is time that we become…” he paused as though searching for the right word and waving a hand nonchalantly, “acquainted with each other, now that you are finally awake.”


	21. In Your Blood

Elaina’s POV  
I clambered towards the back of my cell as he continued forward. His form appeared to blur through the bars of my cell and a cold shiver ran up mine spine at the creepy smile that tugged at his bloodied lips. His steps were slow and calculated as he approached, dipping his chin to look at me. The maroon mop of stringy hair that sat upon his head, contrasting his paper thin white skin only added to the air of insanity surrounding him and his blood and black eyes. When my back hit the wall, I turned my head away, unable to look at him anymore. A hand firmly grasped my chin and turned me back towards him.   
“I believe we will enjoy our time together greatly,” he said maliciously before he crashed his lips into my own, and I choke a bit on the air in my lungs that now feel like they're filled with water. His teeth bit down on my lip when I refused to let his probing tongue in and I whimpered, trying to fight back, but my body betrayed me, moving by some unseen force. I could feel my arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer and he smirked, his mouth leaving mine to whisper.  
“You see, one of the many wonderful uses for magic is taking away someone’s control over their body, especially when they’re in a weakened state.”  
I trembled in fear and my mind went blank. All thoughts on any way I could escape him right now were gone with his words and even after only a few moments of being awake, I knew I had found myself in a personal hell. The only thing worse was that I had no idea if someone would ever come to save me. I didn’t know if Brom and Eragon had made it out alive.   
My thoughts were broken again by lips moving harshly against my own and rough hands grasped my hips. I managed a small sound of pain at his sharp nails digging into them, drawing blood from my uncovered sides, pulling at the knife wound festering there. Again he smirked and pulled away, keeping me in place with magic, and dug his nails deeper in. I could feel the scar tissue breaking open and my nerves screamed at the fresh pain. A low groan of pain escaped my lips and he threw me to the ground, grinning evilly.   
He drew the sword belted at his waist, and my eyes widened in fear and I tried as hard as I could to shuffle away, but to no avail. The blade was blood red, though the hilt and pommel were black metal. Along the blade ran a single, thin, silver scratch which only made the blade appear more sinister in the hands of such a monster. He twirled it almost playful, occasionally tracing lines along my body, just light enough to avoid drawing blood, yet still cause pain and leave red trails of irritated skin.  
When he reached my shoulders, he tucked the blade under my shirt, through the sleeves and tugged upwards, cutting the sleeve from my right arm. He did the same with my left arm before shifting the blade in the same way down my sternum and cut the shirt in half altogether. I was left laying merely in my trousers and bindings, feeling incredibly vulnerable in the icy room.  
His eyes trailed over my scarred and mutilated skin, tracing the lines of muscle that had developed from hard hours of training during my travels. His eyes showed a sick satisfaction at my powerlessness, and he gave a dark chuckle.   
“I have a wonderful idea.” I winced at this. “Oh don’t worry, this won’t hurt. Quite the contrary; I think you’ll enjoy this, if it works as I believe it will.”  
With that he left, and with him, the magic that was holding me to the floor. I quickly gathered my shirt and used my teeth to tear small strips from the sides of all of the tears at intervals, which I tied together to loosely hold it together. At least it would preserve some dignity.   
I pulled it back on, and waited. I stood and paced for hours, wondering if my tormentor would ever return. There was no way to tell time in this place, and no way to entertain myself. I finally decided to work over the words I knew in the ancient language, racking my brain for spells that could counter Durza’s magic. None came to mind and I became increasingly frustrated, my lack of knowledge of his magic making the process that much more painful to endure.  
It wasn’t my fault though. Brom had once told us that to accurately defend against a magical attack you must know where it stems from, and then know how to counter it. That was, after all, what made magical duels so dangerous. Misinterpret a spell and you’re dead. The shade had not used any words to cast the magic, and therefore I had no way to block it.  
After a long time, the crazy man came back and I stopped my pacing at the back of the cell, again as far from him as possible. He walked in confidently, holding large object wrapped in a black velvet fabric. As he got closer, the shape appeared to be more and more familiar to me. Then, the realization struck me and I felt my heart stop for a few seconds. When it began beating again, it raced like never before. Not in battle, not in fear of another blow from an enemy. My breathing became heavy, and I knew if I weren’t to calm it, I would hyperventilate and pass out.   
His pale hands began to unravel the fabric, confirming my thoughts. There, resting in his pale, bony hands was a deep purple dragon egg. White and silver veins crawled across the surface, making the look of veins in marble. I noticed absently that the egg was nearly twice the size of Saphira's.  
“What makes you think the egg will hatch for me?” I asked, scowling viciously, daring to glare up into his bright red eyes.   
“Because, dear, ignorant girl,” he spat at me with a venomous, envy filled tone, “it is in your blood.”   
I shrank further back against the wall of the cell as he approached once more, cowering from his glacial touch. Again he stepped forward, smiling sadistically at my fear, seeming to revel in the weakness. He reached out with his hands and his magic, holding me in my place, except for my arms, which reach forward at his command towards the egg. A loud, pulsing thrum fills the air, and I feel my heart begin to beat in sync to it. As I got closer and closer to it, the noise got louder, and the need for his hold of magic disappeared as I began reaching out of my own accord. The power of Durza’s magic was overtaken by something far more ancient as I was drawn to the stone.  
Then, all at once, the beating stopped as my hand lay flat against the smooth surface.   
Durza smiled wickedly at the silence that filled the air, and he sat the egg down, sitting upon its velvet cloth. As the light from the door faded, his teeth appeared to elongate into fangs, though I knew it was just shadows dragging along his face. In the darkness I stared after the light, and then slowly turned to the egg. My eyes adjusted and I could see the egg shivering in the darkness.  
It is in your blood…  
What the hell did that mean? It seemed everyone knew my secrets before I knew them, especially when it came to my parents. What was so special about them? They had lived in Carvahall since before I was born. They were ordinary farmers, aside from the messy home life. My mother was kind and gentle; my father was an angry drunk. Then again, there had always been secrets and lies between them, and Sara always seemed to know more than she let on…   
My train of thought halted completely as the sound of deep cracking pierced the lonely silence. I stared at the egg in wonder as it fell apart piece by piece, then all at once. In its remains stood a small velvety creature, so much larger than Saphira had been when she hatched. The hatchling’s body without her tail was as long as my arm already, with long spindly limbs, and a tail almost as long as its body. Its wingspan was already as long as my arm. The creature’s magnificent head rested upon a long, graceful neck, which was only about two thirds the length of my arm. I stared into its large, lilac eyes, a dark contrast to its dark purple scales. On wobbly, unsteady limbs, it lurched forward and I held my left hand out to it, recalling when Eragon had shared this moment with Saphira. I steeled myself for the pain I was sure to come. Our two bodies made contact and I squeezed my eyes shut.  
Only the pain didn’t come. Instead of a painful burst like Eragon had felt, I felt a cool rushing sensation rush over my hand and arm. The feeling was near soothing, and I could feel the calming presence of the little beast in my mind, so different from the curious energy of Saphira. It must be due to their different personalities. Whereas Saphira was prideful and bulky, the young dragon was already so different, with a calmer mind and elongated body. Slowly, cautiously, the little dragon crawled into my lap, and rolled over so her wings were splayed out across my legs. I wondered what the boy would think when we saw them again.  
If we do, a little pessimistic voice mumbled in my head. I shut the thought up quickly knowing that Eragon was probably looking for me right now. Then again, I didn’t really want that. He was the last hope of our world. He had to remain safe.  
Actually he is not the last free hope of the world. The pessimistic (or had I misjudged the honesty of it?) voice whispered again.  
I am not free anymore… I reminded myself staring at the bars of the cell. I snapped back to reality at a sound and I realized I had been left alone again in my cell. My focus was drawn into the other cell at the groan that came from across the hall. The figure that had been previously unmoving stirred and sat up.   
“What was that?” she asked, looking around.  
“What was what?” I asked, confused. There had been no noise or movement…  
Her head snapped to mine, and her eyes widened in surprise and sadness.   
“What are you doing here Elaina?” Her tone had a tinge of disbelief and recognition in them. Shock registered in my brain at how she already knew my name. “You shouldn’t be here, you need to leave. That man is a monster,” she said weakly, trying to stand only to fall immediately to the ground. I rushed to the bars, and my dragon followed with me. Her little claws clicked on the ground, and the noise rang off the walls of our cells.   
“Just stay still-“  
“What was that noise?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in the gloom in confusion.  
My heart sank as my eyes shifted down to my dragoness. My heart drops like a stone at the events of my last few waking hours. I ignore her question and pose my own, “what is your name?”  
“Arya,” She said warily, still looking puzzled but as her eyes grew accustomed to being used once more she stared across the hall in shock.   
“How did you know my name?” I asked, brows knitted as I reached a hand down to scratch the little dragon’s head. Her eyes followed my movement and she stiffened with shock and a gasp struggled past her lips. I looked away from her and crumple to the ground and pull the little one into my lap. After she recovers from her shock, we lock eyes once more.  
“Elaina, I was contacting someone you were close to in his sleep and he often remembered you in the back of his mind. It was very distracting. I have to know, is he safe? Where is he now?” My gut wrenched at the thought of him once more and she saw me grimace and nodded. “We have got to find a way out of here, or someone who can help us. With your new partner,” she says in a tone that says she is slightly displeased about the scenario, “it's more imperative than ever we get out before the king comes to collect you. My energy has been so depleted though, I don't know if I can do it alone. Would you allow me into your mind for help?”   
I nod and slump with my shoulder against the bar and corner of my cell closest to her and get as comfortable as I can. The wound on my hip, which appears to have clotted once more smarts when I shift but it's fairly easy to ignore. Her mind probes at mine and I lower what little defenses I had and I can tell she is avoiding delving deeper than the surface.   
I can feel her reaching with her mind, further than I ever could have the range for and there’s a flicker of emotion through our mental thread and I can tell she is retreating moments later. My body suddenly feels drained again and I realize the energy she put into stretching her mind was far more taxing than I had anticipated. I shut my eyes and lean my head back against the wall when she speaks again.   
“I found him and I told him to hurry, that's all I had time for. Now we will have to wait and gather our strength for now. Any ideas on the name for the little one?” I can hear the mild jealousy in her voice again. My eyes crack slightly and I look down at the dragoness nestled into my lap.  
“I’ll call her Lavinia, after my mother.” 

After a fitful few hours of sleep, I was awakened by the feeling of a consciousness brushing mine. I can sense the hunger the little beastie is feeling, and my own stomach rumbles in response. When I peek one of my eyes open, I can see the little lizard cocking her head in confusion. If our situation were not so dire it might’ve brought a smile to my lips, but worry clutched my heart. Was this Durza’s plan? To let us starve until I caved? My heart ached at the thought of my partner going hungry. It’s only until Eragon can find us little one, then we will be safe, I sent an image of Eragon, Saphira and Brom through our mental bond, identifying each one and my feelings about them to her. Her big purple eyes stared up at me with a gleam, and this time a small smile did touch my lips.  
My thoughts were cut off as the door slammed open, and instead of Durza, a few soldiers waltzed in. They glanced at the elf’s cell, then noting her sleeping form, turned to mine. They grinned lecherously at me and I jumped from my place against the bars, back to the end of the cell. The one leading the group, a tall man with short, black hair and green eyes, walked forward and unlocked my cell, closing it behind him.   
“So, I was given permission from our superiors that I can do whatever I want with you,” he whispered menacingly as he stepped closer, drawing chuckles from the other men present as they nudged each other suggestively. The man leaned down, and said, “I bet you and me are going to have a real good time.”  
And, as my ‘rebellious,’ self-preserving side thought was a good idea at the time, I spat once more into the face of my captor as he got too close to my face. I watched as the anger on his face dissipated into a dark, maniacal smile as his hand wiped the spit from his brow and spoke in a low tone.   
“So, you enjoy fighting back, huh?” He asked, grabbing my uninjured side and leaning in, pressing me against the wall further. His breath on my neck made me shiver in fear (taken the wrong way by him), and he bit my earlobe. “That’s ok, I like these sorts of things rough,” he whispered, so the other men couldn’t hear. His words made my whole world drop from orbit, and I wished I had died in the care of the Ra’zac instead. He pressed his lips against my neck, sucking, leaving marks and dragging them up until he ravaged my mouth. There were howls and jeers from the other men as I protested and struggled away frpm him, but his grip hrld firm against my weak body.  
His other arm grasped my bad hip and he dragged our bodies together. His fingers dug deep into the wound from the Ra’zac’s blade and I let out a loud groan of pain. However, unlike Durza, this ordinary man had no magic to hold me back and keep me from fighting. I kneed him in his privates, and upon seeing my aggressive action, my dragon stepped between where he lay on the floor and where I stood in fear, growling in high pitched tones at the bastard. The man groaned in pain and the other men made moves to enter, but stopped at his raised hand.  
“Gentlemen,” he called in a strained voice, “I will just have to teach her a little respect. I’m alright,” he said standing. However, once on his feet the door to the passageway upstairs slammed open, and bright red hair appeared from the opening.   
“None of you will touch her. You may enjoy your time with the other lady but this,” he paused having stepped into the cell, gesturing at me, “Little thing is mine to break.” His words terrified me, and I pitied Arya; though he had just saved me from being at the mercy of the company of men, I knew his wickedness knew no bounds from stories along the way here of shades. Perhaps it would’ve been safer to just allow the other man to have me.   
The other man gathered his wits, before crossing the hall to Arya’s cell. I screamed in protest, threatening them and trying to follow the man. My nails had damn near hooked into his shoulder when I was yanked back by my hair and slapped hard across the face. Blood from my lip trickled from my lip as I fell to the ground.   
“Now, now, where to begin...” Durza trailed off, tracing a finger up my spine as he crouched next to me on the floor of my cell where I suddenly felt so drained of energy that lifting my own body was impossible. In the moment where I had tried to save Arya, I had left my own mind vulnerable. His hand raked into the hair at the back of my head, ripping through tangles and I barely got to a glimpse of his wicked smile before he lunged for my throat, sinking his teeth into it, but not digging them in too deep.  
I could feel the blood dripping down my neck, and into my bindings, staining them. Over his head and shoulders I could see the other men trying to wake Arya before deciding they didn’t care. They hit her body and tossed her to the ground. I closed my eyes and tried to close out the world we were in as I had learned to do. I had endured worse pains than this.   
Eragon would save us.


End file.
